Untie My Silhouette
by nicolebaka
Summary: Emma Swan feels like she's in a rut and decides she needs some changes in her life. A New Year's resolution list might do the trick. Killian Jones thinks Emma's just as perfect as she is, so when he gets his hands on her list, it seems like a good idea to propose a bet to her. But the stakes aren't low, they'll use everything in order to win - and for the other to lose. (Modern AU)
1. Chapter 1

_**Hi, guys!**_

 _ **Throughout this summer I started to plan this Modern AU story and finally, I'm able to start posting the chapters! This is my first Captain Swan multi chapter fic and I'm so excited to share it with you! I hope you'll like it as much as I like writing it.**_

 _ **Happy reading!**_

 _ **(tumblr acc: mycaptainswanjones)**_

* * *

 **Chapter 1**

She should have told the truth instead of lying.

Emma knows she shouldn't have told the others that the reason she wanted to stay at home was because she was feeling sick. She could have simply admitted that she was tired as hell from not sleeping properly for days and that she has zero capacity to pretend to be in high spirits when all she wants to do is cuddle up in her blanket on the couch with a hot cocoa and Audrey Hepburn on her screen.

She is doing that right now, but sadly, it doesn't make her feel any better. It's not enough that she's sleep deprived; now a twinge of guilt is prickling her conscience, too. Although, usually she has no trouble speaking her mind and she's kind of famous for being a little crude – so why didn't she just come out with the truth? Would it have killed her to say, "Sorry, I have no desire to celebrate the end of this miserable year?" Who would judge her anyway? This year was total crap – no use in sugar-coating it.

She got her heart broken. Again. Which she should have seen from a mile away because – to say the least – she has no luck in relationships.

She moved from New York to Boston – at her adoptive brother's coaxing – to escape from the pangs of love. It was an utterly pathetic reason, especially since she doesn't feel any sorrow for the break-up - more like anger and disappointment. It was, in fact, easier to run away than face that another relationship had gone downhill again.

A classic Emma Swan move.

She got fired from her job – apparently, employees can't voice their opinions about the deficiencies the company they work for has, and Miss Mills had had enough of her big mouth.

It was a blessing in disguise actually: she hated working for that evil woman anyway. Maybe she would go back to bail bonds – at least, that way, she can work her frustration out on the douchebags who skip their bails.

Was she always like this? Emma tries to remember a time when she was a person people wanted to be friends with but comes up empty. Guess bouncing around the system for most of her childhood can do that to a person. It hardens you, forms a shield around you – especially after the families throw you back into foster care because they get bored of you or have a child of their own and your presence is no longer needed.

Emma learned a long time ago that if she never truly reveals herself she can minimize the chance of getting hurt in the end - when people eventually leave. Like Walsh…and Neal.

But despite all of her past experiences, she has a short list of people she feels comfortable with. After getting adopted by a wonderful family in her late teenage years, she also learned that being so closed off won't just keep her from getting hurt, but it can prevent her from experiencing the good stuff too.

Still, she has kept some of her walls and inhibitions – some even call her a stone cold bitch for it. Not that she cares, but is it any surprise she has a problem maintaining a meaningful relationship?

She sighs and gets up from the couch, shaking off the blanket in the process. She makes her way into her kitchen and goes for the cabinet to locate her " _There's a chance this is vodka_ " mug.

She drags herself back to the living room with freshly made hot cocoa and glances out the window. There is something remarkably soothing about the sight of Christmas lights and falling snow mingling on the streets with the scent of cinnamon and cocoa filling her nostrils. She can hear the different sounds coming from outside: early fireworks and dogs barking.

All of this perfectly fits into her "lonely and fucked up" mood – since today everyone celebrates the coming of a new year while she's cooped up in her apartment, wallowing in self-pity.

Which is becoming extremely annoying because she doesn't do shit like this. She considers herself a tough woman, so she mentally berates herself for her behavior and instead, soothes herself with the idea that the next year can't be worse than this one. Just be positive.

Just be positive.

She goes back to the couch and grumpily slumps down on it, pulling the blanket tight around herself because _God_ , she's suddenly _so_ cold. Maybe from watching the snow outside or maybe her lie is catching up with her. Perhaps her guilt will ease if she's indeed getting sick.

She should've gone with the others, that's it. But when she thinks about going out into public and meeting people, she shivers into her fluffy blanket and feels nausea coil into a tight ball in her gut. A pretty exciting way to ring in the New Year – feeling guilty and with Karma on her heels. Is she really such a bad person?

Emma quickly does a little soul-searching expedition and with a deep sigh, she grudgingly admits – only to herself – that yes, she's really that bad of a person. But she's only 26, so she can still change, right?

Everyone and everything always changes in this world. It's not impossible for her to become a better person. She only needs to make that decision. She needs to pull herself together, and some planning can't hurt either.

What about a list?

People make those all the time, like for shopping and stuff. But Emma refuses to call it a New Year's resolution because that's lame and the 'new year, new me' slogan is absolute bullshit. It will be just a simple list of things she needs to pay attention to in the future.

Like guidelines.

She quickly finishes her cocoa and abandons the couch in search of a pen and paper. When she finds what she is looking for, she sits back in front of the coffee table and starts thinking.

"Okay, let's do this," she murmurs in a veiled voice, encouraging herself.

But after five minutes of helplessly chewing the end of her pen, she realizes this task is not as simple as she thought. Because what exactly is it that makes someone a good person?

 _No_ , she can't look at it that way, because if she philosophizes too much on the subject she will surely go nuts. She needs to approach this from a different angle – right now it really bothers her that she lied, so it's a good starting point.

 _No lying (unless it's necessary)_ – she writes on the paper.

Emma isn't naïve enough to believe she won't ever lie again. She knows she must leave a tiny loophole, otherwise, she can throw this whole list thing out the window right now. Which probably wouldn't be a bad thing – does she really think just because she writes down a few stupid things she can immediately stick to them?

 _No, stop!_ She scolds herself.

She can't keep doing this, sabotaging things before they can really start.

 _Oh_ , she got another one!

 _Be more persistent – No running away from problems just because it's easier._

Good. She nods, acknowledging the fact that with this list she's already practicing what she just scribbled down – and though it may be just a little thing, she's still proud of herself. You can still reach your goal with baby steps, right? With many, many baby steps and she won't be so fucked up.

Emma frowns and her pen is already gliding wildly on the paper.

 _Don't swear (that much)._

She's not delusional – she knows that a curse will occasionally leave her mouth, but that doesn't mean she can't reduce the number of those words and phrases when the times don't call for it.

 _I won't say everything I think or bothers me out loud (except when my bullshit detector goes off)._

After all, that's why she got fired from that security company – she can't seem to shut up when something is bothering her or when she thinks something is off. But her superpower saved her from many troubles so…loophole it is again.

Not to mention that it could've saved her from her last relationships, if only her hormones hadn't gotten the best of her. With Neal and Walsh, she couldn't control them and it made her vulnerable, so…

 _No sex without love._

There. She's managed to make a decent list in only 10 minutes. Though it is quite depressing that every single sentence has something negative in it. Pondering, Emma starts to chew her pen again – what's that thing that she _could_ do and not _not_ do?

Her train of thought is interrupted by the opening of her front door and with a mild horror she realizes she probably forgot to lock it.

"Evening, Swan!" she hears his cheerful voice not long after, making her breathing hitch and her heart leap in her throat for a second.

She tries to ignore these physiological changes - but fails miserably when she turns to look at him.

As practically always, Killian is looking too good for her sensibilities. Seriously, she's never seen him when he's looking bad, and his ridiculously attractive appearance is slowly driving her crazy (not that she will ever reveal that piece of information to him, or anyone).

He has that kind of face that stops you in your tracks. Emma guesses he got used to that, the sudden pause in a person's natural expression when they glance his way, trying to overcompensate with a nonchalant gaze and a weak smile – God knows she does it nearly every time. It doesn't help that he's so modest about it – almost like he has no idea how hot he is. Which makes the girls fall for him all the more. But despite all the opportunities that come his way, Emma has never seen a woman at his side since they met a couple months ago.

As usual, he wears tight black jeans and a navy blue shirt – with its top two buttons undone, revealing some of his remarkable chest hair (that Emma suspects goes all the way down to his more precious parts). His rich, almost-black hair looks unruly, like he has just woken up from a late afternoon slumber, and Emma's fingers are itching to run through his messy locks. His impossibly, cloudless sky blue eyes (seriously, they should name a crayon after the guy) are sparkling with playfulness as he looks at her.

Emma suppresses a sigh and turns away. She can't look at Killian like that. He's David's, her adoptive brother's best friend, and it would seriously complicate things, which Emma doesn't need right now.

He's off limits. Period.

And it doesn't matter that she hasn't seen him with a girl since they had gotten to know each other – it doesn't mean that he doesn't have one-night stands. Killian's appearance is typical of those guys who conquer women left and right and leave them with a broken heart in the end. Emma's had enough of those, thank you very much. She doesn't want to be another notch on his belt.

"What are you doing here?" she grumbles under her breath.

His answer only comes after he sits beside her with a boyishly sweet smile dancing on his lips.

"Why, I came to offer my company," he replies, his accent and the richness of his voice is laced with his apparent good mood and Emma's eyes flutter closed for the briefest of moments. "I once read it's bad luck to start the New Year alone."

"Seriously?" A somber expression runs across her face while she pulls a little away from him on the couch, just enough that he doesn't notice and she doesn't feel his body's warmth so prominently.

Killian's proximity doesn't exactly have a positive effect on her. Or rather, Killian himself doesn't have a positive effect on her. She's attracted to him, of course – she'd have to have a terrible taste not to find that man anything but sex on legs - but she doesn't want to be drawn to him, and it sometimes makes her act meaner and more dismissive than usual. And except for a few hurt expressions now and then, he doesn't show any less interest in seeking her company out.

"No," he grins. "In truth, I was thinking now that we are finally alone we could have some _fun_ together, but you're definitely not up for it."

Yeah, that is where the problems start – Emma has no idea why Killian takes it upon himself to say things like this every time they're together. Sometimes she has a feeling that he's only half-joking when he's talking about "seducing" her.

"Do I look that awful?" She makes a face.

The smile evaporates from his lips and a serious expression appears on his face instead. "You're always beautiful, Swan."

"Yeah, and I'm naïve enough to believe you," she scoffs, but her stupid and stubborn heart skips a beat at his declaration.

"Fine then. This grumpy look isn't your best, but tell me someone who can pull that off," he shrugs offhandedly.

"Scrooge?" she offers and Killian lets out a warm and hearty laugh.

˘. . . ° . . . ˘

Emma is the only person in his life who manages to always crack him up – even if it's not her intention in the first place - and Killian finds it quite refreshing. Most women want to throw themselves at him first, and he has to work rather hard to make them see him as a friend rather than a possible lover.

He loves women, naturally, but he doesn't want to bed every lass that comes his way without getting to know them first. In truth, he has no clue what it is that women find so fetching about him and makes them want to sleep with him within an hour after they met.

Before he had the pleasure of meeting Emma, he occasionally took those women up on their offers – which, without exception, ended with mutual satisfaction. But after Emma entered his life, – with her wild blonde curls and no-nonsense attitude – he realized he had less and less interest in spending time with other lasses (until the point where he only wanted to spend time with her).

He's almost 30, and from time to time, it crosses his mind that it would be nice if someone wanted more from him than just sex. The first person who showed no interest in his body – who outright rejected his advance on that fateful night they met at the bar where he was playing – was Emma Swan. Even if she never reciprocates his feelings, it still gives him hope (which is utterly contradictory, but this is how Killian feels). Not to mention the all-consuming desire that takes possession of him whenever he's near her.

From the moment he first saw her, he was attracted to her. Not just because of her appearance – although she's a marvelously pretty lass, even now that she only wears her favorite over-worn sweatpants and a plaid shirt that was probably David's, that her almost waist length blonde hair is in a messy bun on top of her head and those bewitching green eyes of hers that are usually full of defiance are now swimming with weariness and something close to brokenness, that her lips are somewhat dry and cracked – she's still a marvel. But it's not just that…there's something about her, about her very being that makes Killian fall for her more and more with every passing second he spends in her presence.

"Okay, now that you confirmed that you can't charm me into your bed, don't you want to leave me alone?" Emma glances at him with an impatient look.

"No." He shakes his head and casts a furtive glance at the book on her knees, its title is hidden behind a paper adorned with her handwriting.

"Why not?" she interrogates him further with a stern glance.

"I very much enjoy your company, love."

"Well, I'm not really entertaining."

"Of course you are."

"Yeah, like watching Scrapheap Challenge." Emma rolls her eyes, but a small smile is playing on her lips.

Killian lets out another laugh.

A memory flashes through his mind of when David insisted they watch an entire season of that engineering game show he likes so much a week ago. That evening, to say the least, was the most tedious few hours of his existence (though Emma's presence helped a little), and after only three episodes they had to come up with a lie to leave before they could die of boredom.

"Swan, I'm not going to leave you alone," he declares in a serious tone.

"Did David put you up to this?"

"No."

And that was the truth. David only mentioned in passing that knowing her, Emma would probably be alone in her apartment. Of course, Killian didn't have to be told twice – and, anyway, he didn't want to celebrate the New Year in a crowded bar after his gig.

"Then it doesn't really make sense."

"Life is usually like that."

"What?" Emma asks, and besides impatience, her voice is laced with a slight annoyance.

"You can't make sense out of everything," Killian replies and gestures towards the paper on her knee. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing," she answers too quickly.

"Then it's definitely something." A wide grin is stretching onto his lips and before Emma can slip her paper into the book with a nonchalant motion, Killian snatches it out of her hand with a swift and precise move. Emma tries to reach for it, but he gets up from the couch and flops onto an armchair nearby.

Emma lets out a helpless groan – the sound making Killian stiffen. Oh, how he has imagined hearing her like that in a completely different scenario.

 _No lying (unless it's necessary) –_ he reads the first sentence and his brows knit together.

"Killian, please!" He hears her voice laced with desperation but doesn't look up from the parchment, his eyes taking in the thoroughly written lines.

By the time she steps in front of him with an outstretched arm and morose expression, he's already read everything she wrote.

"Did you…make a New Year's resolution list?" He glances up at her incredulously.

"None of your business."

"I've already read it, so now it is. And I'm not giving it back."

Killian can see Emma hesitating over whether to try and get back the list or give it up? He wouldn't mind in the least if she decides to retrieve it from his clutches (and the smile creeping onto his lips must betray his thoughts, because Emma sits back on the couch with a pout).

"Are you aware that it's sort of cheating if you leave a loophole in every sentence?" he teases.

"This is my list," she grumbles.

Killian finds Emma quite lovely when she's being petulant, or at least trying to be.

He runs his eyes through her list one more time, humming as he does so, but when he reaches the last sentence he snorts.

"Are you bloody serious? What if you never fall in love?" he asks hesitantly.

"Then I guess I'll just have to help myself," she says openly and in a deliberately harsh tone.

Killian can see it in her eyes that she expects him to be taken aback by her words, but he only smiles. "I would love to watch that."

"Dream on, buddy."

"Every night, Swan."

"Unfortunately, not just at nights," Emma murmurs under her breath, no doubt meaning for him to hear her.

However, Killian doesn't rush to prove her statement false. As a matter of fact, every time he sees her, sooner or later he finds himself picturing her in scant attire or even in nothing at all – and he knows that, to a degree, Emma is aware of that, but he can't seem to restrain his fantasies when it comes to her. And on top of that, her reactions to it all amuses him immensely, – she mostly becomes annoyed, giving her cheeks a red tint that makes her even more beautiful.

"I sense you won't be able to keep even one single thing on this list," he states, waving at the paper now resting on the coffee table.

He's switching onto a different subject on purpose – he doesn't want Emma to feel uncomfortable around him and he doesn't want to scare her off with his feelings (and wishes). He takes joy in the moments they spend together – and it won't do him any good if she gets vexed with him and throws him out of the apartment.

"You wanna bet?" Emma raises her eyebrow in question.

Killian tilts his head to the side, searching his Swan's face for any sign she's only bluffing. If she's really thinking about a wager, she probably has no idea that she's essentially giving him a chance.

"That would be an excellent motivation," he murmurs to himself.

He can't have Emma back out of it now – lest exceptional opportunity would pass him by.

"What are you offering?" inquires Emma, leaning towards him slightly.

Ah, so he managed to pique her interest after all.

"If you succeed in keeping at least one item on this list, I shall desert my quest in trying to win your affections. I'll lay off making dirty jokes and such in the future. Would that be enough motivation for you?"

"Why would you do that?" Emma narrows her eyes in suspicion.

"Because if you do all those things on your list, you'll be terribly boring," he offers, but he doesn't really mean it.

Killian likes Emma the way she is – quick-tempered, prickly, but also sensitive, determined and intelligent – in other words, she's bloody brilliant. It's not just her body that attracts him to her.

"Just lovable," she whispers faintly, but Killian catches it quite clearly.

He flashes a bewildered look towards her. "Is that why you're doing all this?" he dangles the paper in front of her.

"What?"

"Because you think no one loves you?" he asks, a slight edge to his tone.

 _Bloody hell_ , this woman is going to be the death of him.

"It's not that," she averts quickly and anxiously looks away, which only further confirms his suspicion.

"Do you know something, Swan? If you have to change in order for people to love you, it's not love at all."

"Yeah well, it's better than nothing…" she mumbles but a moment later, her eyes harden. "Okay, we have a deal."

"And what if I win?"

"You won't."

"But if I do, I want something in return. Otherwise, what would be the fun in it for me?" he asks cockily.

"I'm not gonna sleep with you," Emma protests. "If that's your deal, forget it."

Killian leans forward and rests his arms on his knees, his expression darkens as he processes her words. "I would never propose such a deal," he states slowly and firmly. "If you ever decide to sleep with me, it won't be because of any games or a lost bet– it will be because you want it too."

"You know, in that case, you should just drop this whole 'trying to seduce me' thing of yours then."

Killian smiles. He can't be discouraged that easily. "If I win, you'll give me a chance. A real one."

"What do you mean?"

"Two weeks from now, there will be a charity ball at the Music Hall and you are coming with me," he announces, but he has no clue where this idea came from.

As a matter of fact, he will be performing that night and, naturally, with the offer came an invitation to the entire event. But what are his hopes from only one evening? It doesn't matter – he can't take his words back now (and miraculous things had happened in shorter times – who knows where one night may lead).

"And you think it will make me run straight into your arms?"

"It only took one night for the prince to fall in love with Cinderella. And vice versa."

"But you're not a prince."

"And you're not Cinderella. And who says I want to fall in love with you?"

Well, the last part is a complete lie, but love is not a matter of question or wanting. If it's coming, you can't stop it, no matter how hard you try. And Killian wants to give it a chance, because there's a strong pull between them that he just can't explain. He has never felt like this with anyone in his existence, and if Emma wouldn't fight against it so much and just let him in…perhaps she would feel the same way.

"I only wish for one evening where you allow us to have fun together without your reservations and fears. Just let loose for one night."

Surely, they've had many movie nights where there were just the two of them, but he always felt as though Emma would never let herself open up to him completely, for whatever reasons.

"You really think I would break everything in two weeks?" Emma glances at him with a slight uncertainty in her eyes.

"Aye," he nods confidently, then he adds in a soft voice. "Or at the very least, I'm really hoping for it."

But he only added the last part because he fears if Emma thinks him too confident, then her walls will go back up and she would get cold feet. Killian senses Emma's hesitation, and if he's too sure of himself and their deal, she would waiver and he can't let that happen.

"Okay." She stretches out her hand towards him.

"Okay," Killian exhales in relief and shakes her hand happily.

Killian can see that Emma thinks she's just struck a sure deal with him, but he knows she's poorly mistaken. Because as he lets go of her hand, he makes a resolution himself: he will support her decision to change if that's what she truly wants, but he won't make her job easier that's for sure.

* * *

 _ **So what do you think? I would very much appreciate a feedback on how you liked this chapter! :)**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Hey** ** _, g_ uys!**_

 _ **Thank you for the favs, follows and reviews for the 1st chapter, I hope that means you like the introduction of this story and maybe stick with me on this journey! :)**_

 _ **And thanks to my amazing beta for correcting my mistakes, as usual.**_

 _ **Happy reading!**_

 _ **(tumblr acc: mycaptainswanjones)**_

* * *

 **Chapter 2**

Killian bursts into her room abruptly. "Swan! We need to talk!"

Emma jumps at the sudden opening of her bedroom door, but she quickly feigns indifference and tries to calm her heart-rate down.

She's sitting on her bed with a blanket around her body, her back resting against the headboard. She lifts her eyes from her book at him, boredom shining in her green orbs.

Is she surprised to see Killian here?

Not in the least.

Actually, she was waiting for him to show up because she was absolutely _not_ hoping for him to forget about their little bet. Considering she hadn't seen him since yesterday, it was only a matter of time before he graced her with his presence. She doesn't really mind - though she wants to be annoyed - but all she feels is a tingling excitement. Like when you're about to do something crazy, and you know it's crazy, too, but you do it anyway.

"You're aware this is not a cave, right? Haven't you learned to knock?" Emma raises one of her eyebrows.

Of course, she kind of does the same thing outside of her own apartment. On occasions, they meet at David's place for a beer or movie, because - as Emma thinks – it's a neutral ground. And sometimes, she kind of forgets she's not at home.

 _On her birthday, just after she had moved into town, she was invited over by David and his girlfriend, Mary-Margaret for a little celebration._

 _When she got to their place, she let herself in through the unlocked front door, expecting the happy couple to greet her immediately, but only silence and an empty apartment welcomed her. She checked the kitchen and bedroom for good measure but no sign of either of them._

 _Emma sighed and plopped down on the couch in their living room, concluding that her friends probably went to the store and forgot to lock their door._

 _Lovebirds._

 _Deciding to freshen up a bit while she was waiting, she opened the door to the bathroom, but she wasn't prepared for the sight that greeted her on the other side. Her breath caught in her throat and she completely froze when she lifted her eyes on the figure in front of her._

 _Killian stood in the middle of the bathroom, clad only in a towel wrapped around his hips, his hair and chest still damp from getting out of the shower probably not a minute ago and Emma could see the little water droplets as they descended down his well-toned body._

 _She swallowed and forced her eyes up to his and noticed his similarly shocked but at the same time amused expression; no doubt he'd caught her ogling his body._

 _That was the most awkward 30 seconds of her life._

 _And also, that was the moment Emma let herself realize that she was attracted to Killian and she didn't know what to do. She swore to herself that next time she would wait patiently in the living room if she finds herself alone again, or at least knock on every door before entering so that they could avoid such awkward situations._

 _It probably wouldn't be a bad idea to charge her phone like every normal people either, so she would get her brother's message that 'They had to go buy some more drinks but she should be able to enter the apartment, because Killian will be there, due to a leaking pipe in his apartment complex'._

 _Killian only gave her a smirk and said if she wanted to see him naked all she had to do was ask._

"If I had knocked, would you have let me in?" Killian tilts his head playfully to the side as he closes the door behind him.

"Absolutely not," Emma teases with a smile.

"Then it would have come down to the same thing, me entering anyway." He spreads his arms, then crosses the room with two big strides and sits next to Emma on the edge of the bed.

He is dressed in all black this time, jeans and a t-shirt that fits perfectly to his upper body, highlighting his abs underneath. (And in no way is Emma thinking about running her hands up his chest).

"But then it wouldn't have taken me by surprise," she notes "What if I was naked?"

"Then I would have a good day," Killian smirks.

Emma lets out a deep sigh. "What are you doing here, Killian?" she asks tiredly.

She was able to sleep more in the last two days, but she still wakes tiredly and her head always feels as if a sledgehammer had struck her in her sleep. There have been similar periods of her life like this, and she's so not happy to welcome another one. If she didn't have so many steamy dreams about the man sitting so close to her right now or if Killian were far less attractive, maybe she would get more sleep and maybe she wouldn't feel like an 80-year-old woman during the day.

"As I've told you before, we need to talk, Swan."

"Did you seriously walk here in this fucking blizzard for that?" Emma scolds, as she notes his still rosy cheeks and damp hair. "They invented phones, you know."

He shrugs nonchalantly. "I love a good stroll."

Emma blinks at him and she seriously thinks about asking him if he grew up in the Antarctic or on an entirely different planet.

"Besides, I wanted to see you and you can't get rid of me so easily this way," he continues with a delightful smile, but Emma tries to pretend she didn't hear this part.

"Did you really walk here?"

This morning, she was leaning out the window to smoke a cigarette from her secret guilty stash and she almost froze to death from the cold outside.

"Aye. Why?"

Emma gives him an incredulous look but his face only shows honesty and he doesn't quite seem to understand why this would upset her.

What is so urgent that he felt the need to walk half an hour in this crazy weather?

"Okay, what do you want to talk about?" she asks with curiosity in her eyes.

"I've been thinking," he starts. "And you have a rather serious problem, love," he says like he doesn't know she has a whole list of problems.

"Really? And what's that?"

Killian grins at her and gives her knee a gentle pat. "I'll make you hot chocolate. Come!"

"That's my problem?" she frowns.

"No. I want to have a drink with you first and I know that you can be persuaded to do anything if it involves hot chocolate. So then we could talk." He winks at her and gets up from her bed.

She wants to argue with him but she decides to let his comment about her hot cocoa addiction slide. "And who says I want to know my so-called problem?"

"I know you do."

"You're wrong," Of course she wants to know, damn him.

"Come on, Swan," he offers his hand to her. "It's just a drink. No harm will come to you, I promise."

She glances at his outstretched hand and the scar that runs almost to his elbow – the remainder of an injury he got from a sailing accident back in England, he once told her. When she first spotted it, she let it slip that she found scars rather sexy on a man.

Ever since her comment, Emma is sure he grabs at almost every chance to put it on display when he's with her – pulling up his sleeves, grabbing things she asks him from the top shelf and (even though he knows she doesn't need it) to offer her his hand to help her get up.

She throws off the blanket with a huff. "Okay, you win." She stands from her bed but doesn't take his hand.

She tries to minimize the times their skins touch because her resolve is treading on thin ice as it is. She doesn't want to ruin their friendship just because she can't control her stupid hormones.

"I so love to hear that from your mouth," he grins at her triumphantly as he opens the door for her.

"Don't get used to it," she grumbles and exits her bedroom with a raised chin.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

˘. . . ° . . . ˘

Killian is glad that Emma seemingly looks better than on New Year's Eve – maybe she's grumpier, but she looks less broken and that's what matters. He thought she was perhaps getting sick and tried to advise her to take her temperature and maybe take some medicine.

But alas, she's a stubborn lass. He knows she's not some damsel in distress and she's a tough one – and that's what makes their bet all the more exciting.

He wanted to visit her yesterday, but on his way home on New Year's Eve his mates convinced him to join them at their favorite bar and they celebrated till dawn. And afterward, he wasn't in any condition to leave his apartment, let alone meet with Emma. But he was happy to have stayed with her til midnight – she wasn't as closed off as he had expected. Maybe it was because she wasn't feeling that well and didn't have the energy to fight him. (And he does know that if he sees Audrey Hepburn on her screen, then she is in need of some cheering up).

And after they had struck their deal, she tried to choose a movie which would make him run for the hills – but _Roman Holiday_ is actually a movie he likes from the lady Hepburn, which meant her plan was quite ineffective. If she was surprised or disappointed she didn't show it; instead, she made herself comfortable on the couch next to him with a bowl of buttered popcorn in her lap. During the movie he found himself stealing far more glances at her than was probably appropriate in a friendship.

She must have noticed it too, because the next time his head turned her way, a handful of popcorn landed on his face. The shock and surprise on his face must have amused her immensely because the next thing he heard was his favorite sound in the world – her lovely laugh.

He was very much proud of himself that he'd managed to lift her spirits a little bit – he knew how easy it was to fall back into melancholy when you were all alone. He remembered how reserved she was at first when she moved here – but he soon understood her behavior. She had lived almost all her life on her own - without a single soul caring for her, and she caring for no one in return. And all of a sudden she was in a city with her family and people who wanted to be friends with her. It could throw people off a wee bit.

He knew the feeling quite well, though his experience was quite the opposite. He came to a completely different and foreign country with no one to guide him through this entirely new culture. But slowly he came to know quite a lot of wonderful people and suddenly this new place started to feel like home.

Killian could only hope Emma would start to feel the same.

And it seemed she was, after the first month of her being in Boston. She began to open up to people and acted friendly with them – except with him. Killian couldn't decide if it was because she simply disliked him or she was just trying to conceal some kind of attraction toward him. In any case, he didn't want to be the cause of her discomfort, therefore he almost gave up winning her trust and affections. He didn't want to force his presence on her, although he can be almost as stubborn and wayward as Emma, he knew where the boundaries were.

On Christmas, a little over a week ago, he placed his arm over her shoulder – it was a sudden, almost instinctive move, just a friendly gesture – but he felt Emma shudder. It was a reaction that also ran through his body, and in that moment he knew, he could never give upon her. He wanted to know what was really between them.

And though even now, Emma still acts distant sometimes, he feels as if she isn't as indifferent toward him as she would like to have him believe. Of course, it had crossed his mind that he's wrong about it, but every so often he catches her staring at him and her expression tells a different story. Perhaps it's wishful thinking on his part, but sometimes he swears there's desire in those beautiful green eyes.

But unfortunately, most times it's just indifference that's staring back at him.

Like right now, Killian deduces, as she steps out to the fire escape with her mug of rum-laced hot chocolate in hand without sparing him a glance.

"Don't sit down, love," he admonishes her more sternly than he intended, but he can't seem to understand why Emma would want to sit on the cold steps in this ungodly weather. He doesn't want her to get sick.

"Why not?" She looks at him alarmingly.

"You could catch a cold," he answers matter of factly. "I'll bring you a pillow."

As he turns away, he catches her nonplussed expression, and Killian doesn't quite understand it – is she surprised because he's looking out for her...or why?

One of these days he's gonna figure this woman out.

In her living room he picks up two pillows from the couch before rejoining her on the fire escape, and as he steps out in the cold, he notices a cigarette butt on the ground.

"Have you considered the fact that maybe the reason you felt so out of sorts the other day is because you smoked out here in the cold?"

He tries not to sound judgmental – the last thing she wants and needs is someone controlling or reprimanding her. Of course, he knows about her guilty pleasure (besides hot chocolate), and that sometimes when she's feeling the weight of the world on her shoulders, she chooses this unhealthy way to let off some steam.

He doesn't approve, of course, but he knows better than to try and talk her out of her toxic habit.

"First of all, I didn't come out here, I only leaned out the window," she retorts as she watches him lean against the wall beside the fire escape. "And second, it was only one," she adds the last part as if to reassure him.

He lifts his free arm up in surrender. "I was only asking."

"And you made me come out here this time," she continues before taking a sip from her steamy drink.

"Wrong. I only proposed to have a drink with me and you chose to consume it out here on your own." He winks at her as he watches her breath drift in the cold air. "By the way, I hope you're aware you said 'fucking' earlier."

"One little swear word doesn't count as breaking anything on the list," Emma grumbles.

"Then how many does count as such?"

She doesn't answer right away, but instead takes another sip and leans back on the steps, content as she feels the alcohol run down her throat. "Certainly more than one."

"I'll be watching you," he warns playfully, pointing two V-sign fingers first at his own eyes, then at hers.

"I'm so scared," she retorts and then throws him a curious glance. „Why are you here, Killian?"

 _Because I wanted to see you_ , he wants to say, but he swallows down the words. Emma didn't take him seriously before, so he feels it unnecessary to repeat it even if it's completely true.

"You've never seen me play," he replies slowly, carefully.

He doesn't know how or why, but Emma seems to avoid the bar every time he performs there.

"That's my problem?" She raises her eyebrow insolently.

"Aye." A smile creeps onto his lips. "I'll dedicate a song to you tonight. Will you come?" he asks and hopes she doesn't hear the longing in his voice.

Emma looks at him pensively, but averts her gaze quickly from his searching eyes.

"You vowed not to run away from your problems," he notes in a persuasive tone.

"I wouldn't exactly call this a problem," she murmurs, but Killian can hear the hesitation in her voice.

"You wound me, Swan." He places his hand over his heart and looks at her with feigned offense. "Come on, love. You'll have a grand time, I promise," he says in a low voice and sits next to Emma on the steps, noting with satisfaction that she doesn't pull away from his closeness.

"Why are you doing this, Killian? Are you trying to prove something?" She lifts her gaze to him and perhaps it's the first time she isn't hiding behind her walls so stubbornly and he catches a glimpse of her vulnerability.

Killian would love very much to just put his arms around her, but for obvious reasons, he doesn't.

"No. I only wish for you to say yes. I would really love for you to come," he replies quietly.

He doesn't really know why Emma avoids the bar every time he plays there; maybe she doesn't like the kind of music he performs, or maybe something else. He wants her to see him play, but more importantly, he wants her to simply loosen up a bit. When they watch movies together she does exactly that and her whole demeanor changes. She seems more innocent, almost childlike and less broken. Killian simply wishes for Emma to feel good in her own skin.

"Why?" she asks softly.

"Why what?"

"Am I really not annoying you?"

Killian smiles. It's not his usual wide grin that sometimes lights up his face – this one is more gentle and softer.

"Not in the least," _If only you knew_ , he adds to himself. "And I think I'm not annoying you, either. Deep down, you know that. I don't know why you're so afraid, but I want to prove it to you that you don't need to be."

"I'm not afraid," she retorts almost immediately and that familiar defiance is back in her eyes again.

Killian lifts his hand and touches her cheek gently and carefully. Even in this cold, warmth is radiating where his skin touches hers and he doesn't want to let go of her.

Emma doesn't exhale for a long time and looks at him with apprehension, however, he can see the hidden desire swimming in her enchanting green eyes.

"Good. Then you can come to my gig tonight."

He doesn't wait for her answer. He pulls his hand away from her soft skin before he does something idiotic, stands up with his empty mug in hand, and, without looking back, he steps into the apartment.

He has a feeling Emma will show up tonight.

* * *

 _ **So, any thoughts? I'd like to know :)**_


	3. Chapter 3

_**Thank** **you everyone for the follows, favs and reviews! It gives me great motivation and all the feels so keep 'em coming! :)**_

 _ **I hope you'll enjoy this chapter too! xx**_

 _ **(tumblr acc: mycaptainswanjones)**_

* * *

 **Chapter 3**

As he runs his fingers lightly across the strings one last time and the room goes silent, Emma finds herself genuinely enjoying herself and his performance. A smile creeps onto her face as she starts to cheer with the rest of the audience, but she doesn't go as far as becoming a 'woo girl'. Clapping is enough.

But in all honesty, she really has so much fun. Killian was right.

And as he promised, he indeed dedicates a song to her - _Something_ by The Beatles - but luckily he didn't point at her way like they do in those cheesy chick flicks.

But at the same time, he called her his Swan, and Emma doesn't know what to do with that. Or rather, her body does (her stupid heart) but her mind still wants to stay in Denial Land. She doesn't want to put a label on the emotions she sometimes sees, not only in his eyes but in hers in the mirror. They invented the phrase 'ignorance is bliss' for a reason.

The clapping and cheering intensify when Killian stands from his barstool on the makeshift stage with guitar in hand and bows to his audience. He looks over the crowd - there must be a hundred people watching him, bathed in the dim yellow light of the place - as he settles his cherry red guitar behind his back by its strap. As he straightens up, he catches her eyes and gives her a quick lopsided grin and wink before disappearing behind a door near the stage. The gesture is quick and she has met that expression quite a few times, but still, her heart skips a beat and she can feel every single pound of it in her chest.

It was strange, seeing him on stage and performing. He seemed carefree but focused, not his usual dorky and cheerful self, but still, someone who clearly had no care in the world except to give himself over to the music.

And music it was.

Killian didn't just play his acoustic guitar, he owned it. And he didn't just own his guitar, he owned the whole damn bar. And he didn't just use his voice for the lyrics, he made everyone listening to it its slave. Emma stood transfixed throughout his performance; there was something about the melodies that felt so heavenly, as if it were liquid energy seeping through her skin. The music he created cranked her joy right up, hijacking her brain.

Maybe it was the glass of rum she consumed prior to his gig, the alcohol coursing through her system making her this swooning mess. Or maybe it was that for the first time Emma let her walls down for him and it let her see him in a different light.

Either way, she is really glad she decided to come tonight.

The spotlight that illuminated the stage during his set fades away, the clapping and cheering subsiding to the usual noises of the pub. The crowd starts to stir, some going straight to the bar for a refill, some staying at their table, waiting for the next performer.

Emma doesn't know when Killian will emerge from the back room, so she starts off to the bar to order them both a drink, but before she can take one step towards her destination, a pat on her shoulder stops her.

"Hi! You're a friend of Killian Jones, right? Emma Swan?" A woman in formal clothing and a clipboard in hand stands before her. She must be a manager or something, Emma assumes.

"Umm…yeah?" she replies in a slightly confused tone. Emma can't imagine why the woman is asking or how she knows her name, but she suddenly has a bad feeling.

"Great!" The woman smiles happily. "He asked me to escort you to the back."

Emma feels her stomach knot into a tiny ball. She wasn't expecting that. Her plan was to watch him play, have a quick drink with him, and go home.

For a fleeting moment, she thinks about rushing past the woman out to the streets and running home. Would Killian begrudge her for ditching him? Probably. But Emma knows for a fact he wouldn't bring it up the next time they meet. He would act as if she hadn't run away from him and her growing feelings.

So that's why she resolves to banish her escape plan from her mind. And besides, this is exactly what she wrote on that stupid list, to not run away when problems (or in this case, conflicting feelings) arise. It's only been days and she almost broke one of her vows just now. She can't let Killian win that easily.

Emma consciously smooths down her dress – yes, a dress, which she now realizes was a very bad idea. She shouldn't have let Ruby freaking Lucas, one member of her small list of people she likes to hang out with since she came to Boston, to play dress-up with her. The deep blue material hangs tightly on her body, and though it doesn't show too much cleavage, it still shows way more than she would prefer to reveal to Killian, and now she has to stand before him. She also feels a little uncomfortable. Though Ruby's dress fits her perfectly, this isn't her usual style. At present, the only source of her confidence is her favorite pair of black boots - which were completely frowned upon by her brunette friend - but Emma wasn't going to be persuaded into wearing stilettos even if her life depended on it.

It's only a common pub, not a five-star restaurant. And it was only a friendly visit to his gig, not a goddamned date.

The woman beside Emma gestures for her to follow and they come to a small corridor next to the stage. Three doors adorn the walls, but before the blonde manager lady can knock on the second one on the right – as if the room's occupant sensed them arriving – it opens, revealing a half-naked Killian.

"Thank you, Tina," Emma hears his caressing voice a moment later and a quick shiver runs through her.

He is probably in the middle of changing into more comfortable clothes, having forsaken his grey Henley and the suspenders dangling by his legs. It's the second time Emma's had the chance to lay eyes on his remarkable upper body, but nonetheless, her mind goes completely blank.

And he definitely knew that they were coming, that _she_ was coming, and deliberately pulled this crap on her. _Bastard._

"No problem," replies the woman, Tina, with a faint blush tinting her cheeks after Killian gives her a smile.

Emma can't really blame her. She, too, has some difficulty not letting her eyes linger on his chest too long.

Killian, on the other hand, isn't trying to hold himself back. His blue eyes roam Emma's form openly, an appreciative smile tugging at his lips. She can feel her own face flush with redness. Why did she let Ruby convince her to wear this stupid dress?

"Hey," Emma greets him a little breathlessly after Tina is gone, hoping against all odds he hasn't caught on to how his naked torso affects her.

"Hello, Swan," he returns with a twinkle in his eye.

"I've had fun tonight."

"I'm glad."

Emma takes a hesitant step back. "Well then…I'll…let you change," she stammers, gesturing lamely to the door. "I think I should go home."

"Okay, but ah…" He scratches behind his ear, a sign of nervousness she'd seen quite frequently from him. "What would you say to a drink? I could drive you home afterward."

"You don't have a car," she reminds him, regaining some control over her body again, though her heart is still beating a mile a minute.

Killian steps closer to her and with a light move, he tucks a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear. Emma lowers her head, but Killian cups her chin with his thumb and index finger.

"Then I'll call you a taxi," he whispers and he gently caresses her cheek. "Come on, Swan, you didn't really think I would let you off the hook that easily?"

"I was counting on it, yeah," she grumbles and curses him in her head for having such effect on her with a single touch.

What is this tingling and warm feeling where their skin makes contact? What is this maddening, bottomless shiver that runs through her body?

"I'll be done in a few minutes. You can wait here if you want…"

"No!" she protests immediately, and then claps her hand to her mouth, bewildered.

What is happening to her? Why does his bare skin evoke such reactions from her now? Maybe she's letting their bet get into her head. _Crap_.

"Or at the bar." His soft (or so Emma imagines) lips stretch into a grin that shows off his dimples. "I'll join you in just a few minutes."

"Okay," she surrenders, but only to get away from his half-naked form, because she absolutely can't think straight with him in front of her, and she's afraid she'll do something she'll definitely regret later.

Of course, she's seen naked men before and did things with them a lot of people would blush at. Why is Killian the one who has this effect on her? Why are her legs threatening to turn into goo at the mere sight of him? Why does the world cease to exist when their eyes connect?

Killian turns and quickly pulls on a blue shirt, but much to Emma's dismay, he completely ignores its buttons. But at least it covers more skin and she feels like she can breathe a little.

"I have another idea," he announces suddenly and looks at her with a raised eyebrow. "Follow me, Swan."

She narrows her eyes in suspicion but does as he told her. First, he leads her to the bar and stops to order two beers. He grabs the bottles by their necks with one hand and places the other on the small of her back. The thin material of her dress does nothing to conceal his touch, as he guides her to the other end of the pub.

She only now realizes there are stairs leading up to a rooftop terrace. As they make their way up, she looks around warily and quickly. There's no one outside, of course, Killian had to use a key to enter. It's probably a staff only place.

The rooftop isn't too big, with just a couple of tables and chairs and, besides the lights of the city, the place is illuminated by beautiful fairy lights, giving it a rather cozy feeling. Emma can see why Killian chose it to have their drinks.

Besides, the weather is unusually pleasant for a January evening; in her favorite black coat, she's not cold at all.

They stop before a table and Killian places their beers on it, motioning for Emma to sit on one of the chairs. "I'll be right back, just need to pack up my things. You'll be alright?"

He doesn't seem bothered by the cold with almost all of his upper body on display, but then again, he did call it a good stroll when he visited her the other day during a freaking blizzard. Her theory that he secretly grew up in the Antarctic is starting to sound more and more plausible.

"Of course," she nods and takes a swig from her bottle and catches his smile before he goes back inside.

After a few minutes, she hears the entrance door open and assuming it's Killian, she doesn't look up from her phone, exchanging texts with Ruby, who wanted to know if she had gotten horizontal with their mutual friend yet.

"Hello there!"

A man, definitely not Killian, stops before her table, making her shift her attention from her phone. Puzzled, she looks up at the quite good-looking intruder to her temporary solitude. His features are a bit hard, not everyone would call him handsome, though his round brown eyes give his face a soft edge.

She remembers him, he performed with a blonde girl before Killian, though she didn't pay much attention to them. She's not really a fan of pop music.

"Is this seat free?" he asks, his accented words rolling off his tongue smoothly.

"No," she replies coldly.

"You sure?" He raises one of his thick eyebrows.

"My imaginary friend is sitting there." Emma tilts her head, her voice deliberately nonchalant.

The man grins, pulls out the chair and sits down without hesitation. "Did I kill it?" he asks with a sardonic smile.

"Crushed him. He screamed, too," she informs him flatly.

He smiles. Strangely, his expression doesn't soften, it seems more dark and seductive.

"You know, first I wished to hide out here, but your company is too lovely to leave you alone."

"There are more empty tables here," she notes dryly.

"True, but now that it seems I've found a lass to converse with, Alice won't bother me if she comes up," he explains.

"Why don't you want her around? She's a beautiful woman."

Alice and this man performed together, she the singer and he the synthesizer player. Emma recalls that when they gave the stage over to Killian, the woman, Alice, greeted him with a kiss on his cheek. Then, she didn't acknowledge it, but now that the picture is in her mind again, she feels a little sting in her chest.

Is she seriously jealous?

"She wants to know how she did tonight, and the truth is that her performance was bloody awful in some songs. And I don't fancy a quarrel with her."

"I don't think she was that bad."

"The lass was trying too hard to be Britney Spears. She was too slutty in that blue dress," he declares firmly.

"Well, she was kind of supposed to be." Emma doesn't know much about music, but she thinks today's pop songs are about who can shake their asses better.

"But not that much," he takes a sip from his drink, wine, judging from its color, and his gaze falls searchingly on Emma's face. "Do ya have a boyfriend?"

She vowed never to lie again, only if necessary, but this time it's not, so she replies with gritted teeth. "No."

"You're available, then," he concludes, leaning back on his chair satisfied.

"No."

"You have a girlfriend?" He raises his eyebrows again.

"No, but right now I'm thinking hard on switching sides," she grumbles.

His lips pull into a grin and he extends his hand toward her. Somewhat uncertain, Emma shakes it. There is no spark when their skin touches.

"Will Scarlet," he introduces himself.

"Emma Swan," she replies reluctantly.

"So, Scarlet and Swan. I think it would be a bloody awesome band name, eh? The Scarlet Swan." He smirks at her and Emma has to restrain herself from rolling her eyes. "Who are you waiting for, by the way?"

"Killian," she shrugs.

"But you said you don't have a boyfriend." He wrinkles his forehead in confusion.

"He's not my boyfriend."

"But will be?"

Emma sighs and shrugs again. "He's only a friend."

"I know of only one lass that Killian's friends with, but you're not her."

He must be talking about Ruby. She showed her this bar and ultimately introduced her to Killian.

The brunette is also good friends with her brother, but while David spends most of his time with Mary Margaret, Ruby was the one who took Emma under her wing when she arrived. (Not that she needed coddling, she's quite capable of exploring a new city on her own, which is what she's done most of her life anyway). But Ruby was really persistent and Emma soon realized it's better to let the brunette do what she wants, and Ruby practically adopted her in the end. Not that Emma minds having her around - she can tell her everything and Ruby would never judge her - but her obsession with getting her and Killian together is starting to drive her up the wall.

"Obviously," she comments sarcastically, "I'm his other friend."

"He doesn't have another lass friend," he protests.

"Yes, he does."

"I've never seen you around."

Emma glances impatiently at the man. She would really like to give him an earful that he can very well leave her alone now, but he's Killian's colleague or music buddy or whatever. And it wouldn't really be nice of her, so she starts explaining.

"I'm his best friend's sister and only moved here three months ago."

Will gives her a smile, a smile that can only be described as charming and dangerous, but it leaves her unmoved. He is the type of man Emma is usually attracted to – tall, dark and handsome with a bit of a bad-boy edge – but when she looks at him she doesn't feel the usual tingling feeling. Is it because of Killian? If it is, then what does it even mean?

"If only my best friend had a sister of his own to turn up here all of a sudden," he whispers in a silky tone.

"My brain is literally hurting because of you. What if you switch tables and leave me alone?" Emma gestures to another table nearby.

"Sorry, lass, but you're too marvelous company to leave you be," he informs her before he takes a sip from his wine, all the while watching Emma over the rim of his glass with challenging and lustful eyes.

"You don't even know me."

"But you're funny."

"Funny? Me?" she scoffs and gives him an incredulous look, and in that moment she's wondering, and she can't believe this is happening, why Killian isn't at her side right now.

˘ . . . ° . . . ˘

Killian jogs up the stairs with light steps. Maybe it's because of Emma, but he thinks he played exceptionally well tonight, though at first, he was all jittery and sweaty palms that she wouldn't show up. But when he spotted her among the crowd, all his worries flew away.

He's glad he decided to invite her, and it makes him extremely thrilled that he managed to make her stay. He expected more of a protest from her, and in his mind, he created thousands of arguments to convince her, but none of them were needed in the end.

Perhaps she's starting to soften up towards him, Killian theorizes, and his heart starts throbbing with a sudden happiness.

He eagerly throws open the door leading upstairs and steps out to the rooftop, now dressed in warmer and more decent clothes. He heads to their table but as he approaches he notices that Emma already has company, making him stop dead in his tracks.

Emma is scowling at her temporary companion whilst the man at the other side of the table is laughing. When it dawns on Killian who is sitting with her, he starts walking again with determined steps, annoyance gripping at his chest.

As he reaches the table, Emma glances at him with what he reads as an expression of relief, which is rather odd because it's certainly a first.

"It would appear I can't leave you alone for even three minutes," he begins playfully, but his eyes dart in warning to Will, who looks back at him innocently.

"Don't blame me. It seems you stupid musicians somehow think I'm this interesting person," Emma grumbles as though she can't quite understand what people find so captivating in her.

The two men smile at the same time, which, of course, makes it instantly clear to Killian that Will is also quite taken by Emma.

"There's a heater nearby and there the view of the city is spectacular. Want to join me, love?" he gestures to her now gloves covered hands and hopes she says yes. For one, he still has a full bottle of beer waiting for him and, two, that Will would get the hint.

"I'd love to," Emma sighs deeply and stands up immediately.

She smooths her coat down and grabs her bottle, looking expectantly at Killian.

"I'm comin' with ya," Will announces.

Killian flashes his eyes at him, and Will answers with a lazy smirk.

As they start walking towards the edge of the rooftop, he unwittingly starts thinking about what Emma and Will could have been discussing in his absence. Does she like his fellow colleague? Is she attracted to him? And if she is, what will she do?

With Will still on their heels, much to Killian's disdain, they arrive at their destination and Killian stands near the heater so Emma won't catch a chill (he knows how she's always cold, even if it's like a thousand degrees in the room). The only reason he suggested they go outside was to get some peace and quiet away from the cacophony of the pub, but between their unwanted guest and the start of a snowfall, it was beginning to feel like a bad idea.

"Thank you for your help," Will notes after a few moments of awkward silence.

"No problem," Emma shrugs.

"What help?" Killian inquires in a neutral tone.

He doesn't want to show how unhappy he is about Will's presence or how much it bothers him that he doesn't know what happened – or didn't happen – between him and Emma while he was away.

"I only kept Emma company to avoid talking with Alice," Will explains.

"Ah, I see." Killian's lips pull into a wry smile.

Alice is not his favorite person to share a booking with at the pub. She is a decent singer, but sometimes she tries too hard and it's her performance that suffers in the end. She walks with her head high in the air, thinking that because a few semi-drunk people cheer for her, she's suddenly a star. Not to mention that every time they've met, she looks at him like he's a juicy piece of meat, and apparently it doesn't matter that he's told her countless times that he's not interested, she's still trying to get into his pants.

She's quite scary sometimes.

Their conversation moves to the topic of tonight's performance, but Emma doesn't comment. Killian doesn't mind; he wishes to hear her opinion when they're alone. He knows Emma will be flat out honest then, though he's sure she won't lie in front of Will. She vowed to never do that unless it's necessary, and this situation clearly doesn't fall into that category. Still, Killian believes Emma would be more open with her thoughts if it were just the two of them.

It's a terribly good feeling, knowing that she wouldn't beat around the bush with him.

When they collectively finish their drinks and the January weather finally emerges victorious, they decide to get back into the bar. As they descend the stairs, however, Emma suddenly slips on the last step and Killian instinctively grabs her waist from behind. For a moment, she seems to let him steady her, but then, as if the situation and his touch just registered in her mind, her body stiffens and she pulls herself away from his grip.

"You alright, love?" he asks in a soft voice.

Her eyes are frightfully veiled and dark when she turns to face him. "Yeah, thanks…just, umm…where is the ladies room?" She tries to look anywhere but at him.

"There," he points above her head. "The first door on the left."

Emma nods and thrusts her previously discarded coat into his hand. "Okay…I'll be back in a minute." And she walks away with slightly hesitant steps.

What just happened?

They've only consumed a bottle of beer and Killian knows how well the lass can hold her liquor, so it isn't the alcohol having that effect on her.

He loses sight of her in the crowd, but the feeling of her thinly-covered skin under his palms is still very much present, the sensation burning through his veins towards his heart, spreading warmth in his chest and making his stomach flutter.

"Bloody hell," he murmurs involuntarily.

"You have a bit of a crush on her, aye, mate?" Will interrupts his train of thought and Killian almost forgot he's there too.

"No." He turns to his fellow countryman.

Despite the fact that they mostly get along well with each other – there's no tension between them other than their usual male egos from time to time, they even have drinks together on occasion – Killian is now looking at him sharply, his eyes holding a hint of trepidation.

"Are you trying to fool me or yourself?" Will's lips pull into a smile.

"Neither," Killian replies with a frown.

"Then you won't mind if I go for it, eh?" Will raises his eyebrow in question.

Killian involuntarily lets out a little growl and purses his lips in anger.

Will lets out a bright laugh. "I'll take it as a no, then," he notes lightly. "I'll get out of your hair now. Say hi to Emma for me." He pats Killian on the back in a friendly manner and turns away.

"Will…" Killian calls after him slightly hesitantly.

"Hmm?" Will turns back.

"Thanks." Killian nods.

"No problem," he replies and his mouth pulls into a sinister smile. "Good luck, mate."

"Aye, I'll certainly need that," Killian sighs and with a last nod, he pushes his way towards the restrooms.

He leans his back against the wall opposite to the door Emma disappeared behind. He glances at his watch. If she doesn't come out within five minutes he'll knock. He lowers his arm and waits.

After what feels like forever, he glances at his watch again, noting with disappointment that not even a minute has passed. He looks at the door impatiently and seriously considers barging in and see if everything is alright with the lass, but then he hears the faucet on the other side of the door running, so he stays put.

A few moments later, the door opens and Emma finally emerges. When she looks up and catches sight of him, she jumps a little. Then she draws in a deep breath and looks at him a little gruffly.

"You scared me."

"Sorry, love," he smiles apologetically.

For some reason, she looks a bit flustered and fragile, and it makes his heart lurch for her. Is she really not feeling well? Or is it the same kind of hypnotic sensation that overtook him, making her look this vulnerable?

"It's okay," she smiles and he feels his heart jump in his chest.

"So, what do you say about going up to my place?" asks Killian suddenly.

"Absolutely not," she answers without hesitation.

"But you seem a bit uncomfortable here." He gestures towards the half-drunk people in the bar.

Emma widens her eyes a bit. "How do you know?"

"You're kind of an open book, Swan." He smiles at her narrowed eyes. "I'm sorry for dragging you here. I thought you would enjoy yourself."

She's shifting from one foot to the other and avoiding his eyes. What is she thinking and feeling right now? Killian dreadfully wishes to know.

"No, I did. I'd just rather go home now," she murmurs.

Killian takes a step closer to her and he can't stop himself. He gently touches her chin and with a tender push, he forces her to lift her head and look into his eyes. "I would really like to know whether you liked my performance or not," he says seriously.

"It was really good." She smiles, but she pulls away.

Killian lowers his arm. "Swan, just a beer and some talking," he reasons. "I'll give you my word that I won't even touch you."

Emma glances at him. The strength he's gotten to know so well slowly crawls back into her eyes. He likes her either way, but maybe this defiant and determined version of her is his favorite.

"You can't look at me like that either," she grumbles.

Killian smirks. "Like what?"

"With that much…" She swallows hard. "…lust."

"Does it affect you?" He steps closer.

He can see her chest rising. "No. Just annoys me."

"All right, I won't look at you like that." He takes another step and they're so close now, Killian can hear as she draws in a shaky breath.

"Of course you will," she huffs. No matter how nonchalant she wants to sound, she fails miserably.

Nevertheless, Killian gathers his strength and pulls away from her. They're standing in the least secluded passageway of the pub, and it's not the time nor place for that. He closes his eyes for a moment and when he looks at her again he tries to act indifferent, but he knows that even if he were a great actor, he could never look at Emma like that.

"Is it better?" he asks softly.

"A little."

"You know, just because I don't show it, doesn't mean I don't feel it," he states, but when her eyes narrow threateningly, he quickly adds "So, are you coming up?"

"But only for one drink," she insists immediately.

"All right," he nods with a grin.

"I won't stay longer than that," she says almost like she wants to convince herself.

"Fine," he nods again.

Emma tilts her head, giving him a searching look. "Fine," she agrees in a low and defiant tone and Killian has to hold back a carefree laugh, because now he's almost completely sure Emma is as attracted to him as he is to her.

And Killian believes Emma is just starting to realize that.

* * *

 _ **Thanks for reading! And reviews are always appreciated! I would like to know what you think :)**_


	4. Chapter 4

_**New chapter is here! I hope you like this one too, and if so, let me know in a review :) Feedbacks are what my muse craves.**_

 _ **(tumblr acc: mycaptainswanjones)**_

* * *

 **C** **hapter 4**

Going home with a man to his apartment was not a new experience to Emma, each time knowing that their association would be strictly restricted to sex and nothing more, and only for one evening. She didn't know them, didn't feel anything for them except a temporary attraction. The sex was never bad - some of the men were exceptionally kind and more attentive than others - but still, Emma always felt as though something was missing from all those encounters.

She hasn't had a one-night stand in a while now, the last one being before she met that bastard Walsh. She thought she'd finally found a man who genuinely cared for her, with whom the sex meant more than just two bodies colliding for pleasure. But she should've realized that the reason he stayed at work late at night wasn't because he was a diligent employee but because he was fucking one of his co-workers.

And now, as Killian fishes out his keys from his back pocket and opens the door to his building, as they step into the silent hallway without exchanging a single word, Emma is suddenly thrown back in time. Then, the only thing that mattered was to satisfy her needs. In those moments, she was free and spontaneous, never thinking ahead, just acting without caring about tomorrow.

Now, the situation is different. She doesn't want to sleep with Killian.

 _No_ , that's a big, fat lie.

She really wants to have sex with him, but she won't. She wrote on that stupid list that she won't have sex without love because it never took her anywhere before, and with Walsh and Neal, it nearly destroyed her.

With Neal, she was too young to realize that what she felt for him wasn't love, but a simple infatuation. She barely knew him, but his similar lifestyle and the fact that he was older made her hormones tell her otherwise. She trusted him and he betrayed her.

She has never really been in love, and until she is, until she can truly trust the person with her heart, no funny business.

And she doesn't want to risk what she has with Killian. It's only been three months since they've known of each other's existence, but Emma considers him one of her closest friends. She doesn't want to lose him, not to mention what David would do if things turn out ugly between them.

Stamping their feet as they enter the building, they shake the snow from their boots. Emma finds it rather odd how quiet Killian is; it's not normal for him to not say a word during their walks, and he hasn't since they left the bar. He usually talks up a storm, sometimes even to the point where it's hard to shut him up (not that she minds). Emma actually likes when he gets all excited about a new and fascinating thing he just learned and wants to share it with her. So his silence now is quite strange. What is he thinking about?

What is he thinking about?

She takes a pensive glance at his face, but when he lifts his eyes up to her she quickly averts her gaze. She deliberately doesn't look at him again, instead, she steps before the cork board hanging by the elevator and starts inspecting the pinned up leaflets.

" _The Red Lion – live music every Friday and Saturday"_ she reads and sees Killian's name, as well as others', listed below. She knows it's not the only bar Killian plays at, but it's his favorite and closest to his apartment. Not to mention that his good friend, Robin Locksley, runs the place, which means their group of friends get some free drinks now and then.

The arrival of the elevator diverts her attention from the flyers. Killian motions her to go ahead and when they're both inside the small cabin, he pushes the button that will take them up to the 4th floor. As the door closes behind them, Emma suddenly feels as if the elevator is too small for the both of them. Killian is standing too close to her and there's less and less air by the second.

Emma closes her eyes. Though Killian is not touching her, she somehow suspects that he wants to, and it sends shivers down her spine.

"Are you working on some new songs right now?" she asks suddenly, opening her eyes.

Killian's lips pull into a sly smile, but fortunately, he doesn't move a muscle toward her. "For now, no," he replies without looking at her. "I don't really have time for that this month. I have a few gigs and rehearsals before the main event in the Music Hall."

"And what will you play next?" she interrogates him further.

"Are you trying to distract me, love?" he glances at her waggishly.

"Yes," she replies honestly, her tone carrying more edge than she intended.

She can't help it, though. His proximity is simply too dangerous for her.

On Christmas, when he touched her shoulder in what she assumed was a friendly way, the only thing that prevented her from jumping his bones was the presence of their friends and family. When they ultimately ended up alone in the kitchen (because of course he would volunteer to help her wash the dishes), the anger she felt towards him for making her act like a blushing schoolgirl having her first crush, and towards herself for being unable to control her body around him, was a life vest that she desperately clung to. Killian, of course, was incredibly amused by it.

Then during New Year's Eve, it was as if Killian had stopped with those gestures and toned down his teasing, though they hadn't been together that much, only this afternoon drinking hot chocolate on her fire escape. But back then Killian's only goal was clearly to convince her to come to his gig.

And now they're alone again.

Emma wants to bang her head against the wall for her stupidity. Killian won't stop looking at her as if he wants to devour her body every damn time and he certainly won't give up fantasizing about the two of them. But she can't hold it against him or voice her irritation. She wants to be more tolerant with people and, besides, she vowed to restrain herself from commenting on anything that bothers her – or in this case, anything that makes her squirm under his gaze. If she can't stop him from staring at her as if she were the last woman on Earth…God knows where it would lead them. But if she succeeds in shutting off his fantasies, then he would switch to another one of her vows on the list.

A vicious circle, for sure.

"You know the owner of The Rabbit Hole? Cora?"

She is jerked back into reality when he speaks again and she nods at his question, cringing at the name involuntarily when it registers in her mind.

They both hate that bar, mainly for the person who runs it, a middle-aged woman who thinks she's still in her twenties, shamelessly flirting with every man crossing the entrance of her place. It's not a surprise her nickname became Cora The Cougar. She especially has eyes for Killian, who plays there every Tuesday. Emma knows how much he can't stand to be there, but he has to pay his bills somehow.

"The witch herself very much prefers 50's music so…" he replies in a quiet and contemplative tone, all the while studying her face intently.

Emma knows she must be paler than usual and there's probably panic swimming in her eyes. Perhaps that's why her voice is more raw and offensive when she speaks. "But you won't be dressed as Little Richard or Elvis Presley, right?" She raises one of her eyebrows.

His eyes widen slightly. "You know 50's music?" he asks in wonder.

The elevator stops with a jolt and the doors open. Killian backs out, not taking his eyes off her.

"I like some rock'n roll songs," she shrugs. "I used to listen to them a lot."

"Really?" Killian's steps come to a sudden halt.

"Which piece of information surprised you? That I know singers from the 50's or that I like their songs?" she inquires as she steps out of the tiny cabin.

"More that you like rock'n roll," he answers her honestly.

Emma is not insulted by it in the least. She tends to be a little standoffish and guarded around people. Only a few know her preferences and because of her stubborn, sometimes defiant nature and appearance, most people assume she's somewhat superficial and knows nothing about the last millennium, let alone about this particular genre. Though Emma thinks just because she's like this it shouldn't mean that she can't prefer retro music over today's crappy songs they dare call art. But for some reason, every time it comes up in a conversation people always get a little surprised.

"I'm not exactly a pop song kinda girl."

"I didn't assume you were, only…"

"Yeah?" she urges when he goes silent in hesitation.

"Well, in truth, I believed that people nowadays don't really listen to that kind of music anymore," he glances at her briefly and scratches behind his ear with a small smile.

"Not many anyway, but I always like to be an exception." She smiles with ease but regrets it in the instant she catches sight of the awe in his eyes. "So, um…which door?" she asks awkwardly, hoping Killian will wake up from his daze.

Killian, still smiling, tilts his head to the right and starts walking. The elevator's door closes a moment later, wrapping the hallway in dimness, with only the alarms giving the place some greenish, dull lights. He slips the key into the lock with ease, pushes the door open and switches on the lights before ushering her in.

Emma steps into the tiny hall. She quickly gets rid of her soaked boots so as not to make a mess. Killian gestures to a folded and worn towel on the floor and she places her slightly snow-covered shoes on it.

"Look at how little your feet are," he marvels and she laughs.

She's quite the average height, but her size 6 feet look really small. Killian's not the first one who's noted it.

He steps closer to her and helps her shrug off her coat, hanging it on the coat rack behind the door. He doesn't touch her, yet she feels heat running down her spine.

"There's the bathroom, if you need it." He motions to a door not far from the entrance while taking off his own boots and coat. "And by all means, make yourself at home!"

"Thanks." A faint smile tugs at her lips.

She's a little ill at ease – she's pretty good at reading people, but right now she's having trouble with solving the giant question mark that is Killian Jones. One time he's kind and friendly, and the next, like in the elevator or in the bar earlier, he's looking at her as if he wants to rip off all her clothes and take her against a wall.

Is it because he tries so hard to hold himself back that sometimes he just can't restrain his thoughts? Emma is aware that Killian is attracted to her but seeing as they barely know each other, she's sure that what he feels is only trivial and temporary, a simple fascination that will die down as soon as it can no longer feed on hope she's apparently giving him. Sure, it's possible that she's wrong and Killian only sees a challenge in her, after all, she wouldn't be surprised if he had never met a woman before who said no to his charms. But truth be told, she wouldn't do that either, but…yeah, there's always a damned 'but'.

She crosses her arms across her chest and walks into the living room. Killian follows her closely and turns on the lights there too.

The place is not too large, but it isn't small either. It would be perfect for up to two people. The kitchen is not separated, the dining counter is right beside the door on her left and dark brown cupboards adorn the place. There are large windows on the wall opposite the door almost all the way to the ceiling. The view must be amazing, though right now Emma can't make out anything. Two armchairs and a coffee table are located in one corner of the living room, and to her right there's one more door, probably leading to his bedroom.

A tiny shiver runs through her at the thought.

"So, this is what a musician's apartment looks like," she surveys.

"Ah, well…" He does that ear scratching thing of his that Emma finds quite adorable. "As it happens, a quite messy musician's, but aye." He bypasses her and drops his keys on the coffee table before hastily picking up some scattered clothes from the floor. "I'm usually a bit tidier, but I didn't really have much time to do laundry and until tonight I wasn't expecting anyone…"

"It's quite alright," she interrupts his rambling with a smile. "You know how my place usually looks, we both know it's got nothing on yours when it comes to chaos."

"Aye," he grins at her. "I do know how much you detest cleaning."

She really does, but she also knows how much of a neat freak can Killian be. Every time he comes to her place he finds something to clean or put in order. On the first day of January, she woke up and found her dishes washed. The other day, after he successfully convinced her to watch his gig, she walked into her living room and caught sight of her empty drying rack and her newly-washed clothes folded neatly on her coffee table. So his present negligence is a bit strange. Probably his time is mostly consumed by the rehearsals for the Music Hall.

"Your furniture…" She looks around again and notices he doesn't really have much of that.

"I know, it's not much," he foregoes her with the answer. "I moved here half a year ago and I'm only a poor musician." He flashes a brief smile at her. "But I would like to purchase a couch because those armchairs are accursed objects. You can't get comfortable on them no matter how hard you try."

"Are there any other artists living in the building?" she asks, while he works on gathering his clothes and putting them in a hamper.

"Two, other than me." He disappears behind the bathroom door for a moment with the box in his hands and continues to answer her question when he reappears. "Zelena and Leroy. They're both in theater. Opera. We don't really have a common ground." He looks around the room and his eyes fall on her. "You know you can come in?" he asks her, playfulness sparkling in his blue eyes.

She's still standing at the entrance of the living room, still somewhat amazed that she's in his apartment. She slowly lets down her arms, takes a deep breath and steps further into the room, but stops almost immediately when she sees the lust swirling in his gaze as he looks over her body because, _fuck_ , she's completely forgotten the dress she's wearing. She can practically watch his thoughts through his eyes (and it's not as if he's even remotely trying to hide his desire) and her breathing quickens and her chest rises and falls with each intake.

Mesmerized, Killian watches as her black bra tries to break free from under her tight dress.

"Killian, stop it!" she reprimands sharply when his eyes fall on her chest, though she's not sure her scolding came out anything more than a groan. She feels goosebumps appearing on her arms and it's terribly annoying.

"Apologies, love." He clears his throat and Emma can see a faint blush appearing on his cheeks. "But this outfit of yours leaves almost nothing to the imagination."

"Well, try to imagine something else then, but not…me," she all but pleads with him in a desperate tone.

"You're all that's been on my mind, Swan, since I've met you," he admits and takes a deep breath, locking eyes with her.

"You're not doing this so we could cross a thing on the list?" she demands in a low voice.

She can barely breathe, yet Killian hasn't even touched her, as he had promised, which is a total mindfuck and is quite baffling.

"No," he replies in a serious tone, and then slowly the corners of his mouth slide upwards. "But funny you should mention that. I seem to remember you wrote something like 'you won't remark anything that bothers you,' and every time I look at you, you've had something to say about it. But I'm willing to overlook it, for now, it wouldn't be good form so early in the game."

"Um…thanks?" She doesn't know if she should be grateful or angry. He knows damn well what he's doing to her.

Neither of them move for a while. They only stare at each other from a distance, but Emma knows that even if he doesn't show it right now, the same desire rages in his body, just like in hers.

How much longer can they resist it? And why the hell did she agree to come up here with him alone in the first place?

"I know that you want me too, Emma," he speaks in a soft tone after a few moments of silence and it's probably the second time he called her by her first name. It sobers her up a bit. "Why…"

"Because it wouldn't be right," she cuts him off firmly. "It wouldn't end well, and then…then it would be really hard not to run into each other."

A dark frown appears on his face. "So, the only reason you're rejecting me is because we have the same circle of friends and our families know each other quite well?"

Ever since Killian's brother, Liam and his fiancée, Elsa moved to the States from England last year, the Nolans and the Joneses have spent at least one day in every month together at Emma's adoptive family's house in the suburbs. Since she lived in New York a few months ago, she never attended such gatherings, much to Ruth's dismay. But now that she's moved here, it will certainly change.

"Yeah…I think…" she answers hesitantly because, at this moment, she really doesn't know why she is turning him down when she so badly wants him.

"All right, let's talk about my gig then," he changes the subject suddenly.

"That's it?" Her eyes widen.

"That is what you wanted, right?" He smiles at her and though he tries to look nonchalant, his tense posture tells her otherwise.

"Yeah," she replies, but her face must reveal her confusion because Killian lets out a deep sigh.

"Look, Swan, I accept how you're feeling, though I think it doesn't change the fact that we both want each other. But…I'll try to repress it and so I won't imagine how I would relieve you of this naughty dress of yours."

"It's Ruby's. And it's quite uncomfortable."

He raises his eyebrows suggestively and she has to stifle a groan. "Killian!" she warns with slight anger in her voice. "Okay, this is not going anywhere. Can you lend me one of your shirts?"

A smile is tugging at his lips and he walks into his room. A moment later he emerges with a black shirt in his hand and tosses it to her gently. She catches it and holds it tightly to her chest.

"Thanks. I'll be right back."

She all but flees from the intensity of his gaze towards the bathroom, not even slightly annoyed when she hears his low, amused laughter behind her.

˘ . . . ° . . . ˘

Killian stares at the bathroom door with a pensive look. Whatever Emma saw in his eyes, it affected her. _It affected her_. This fact relieves him and makes him excited at the same time. For that matter, his southern region is starting to feel that thrill as well, so he tries to distract himself from the images that ran through his mind before Emma rushed into the bathroom.

He has a lot of questions – about her – and now that they're finally alone and have some free time on their hands (not to mention that she can't exactly hide anywhere except the bathroom, but surely she won't resort to locking herself in there) he wants to know as much about her as possible, or as much as she will let him know.

Most of all, he would very much like to understand why her walls are up so high that barely anyone can climb in. What or who hurt her so much that she feels the need to shut people out and, if she ever let him see all of her…

Too much. Too many questions, he knows, and he can't be sure if he will get answers to all of them openly. But he wants to get to know and understand her better, so he wouldn't give up seeking answers. Of course, he will try to be relatively cautious and circumspect, because he doesn't want to scare her off.

But he genuinely can't fathom why is she so vehemently against exploring what's between them, though he does know how it feels to have a relationship that is based on more than just bodily pleasures, to have a deep connection with someone and then have that bond taken away from you and leave you with nothing but emptiness for a while. He knows very well that sometimes love can hurt, but that doesn't mean you can't let yourself open up to the possibility of it again.

He wonders if something of the sort happened to her, that those men she had been with…

 _No_ , he doesn't want to speculate on that, because, suddenly, jealousy is pooling in his chest at the thought that other men had the luck to be with her, and an inexplicable anger burns through his veins, for he knows those men must have hurt her badly.

He sighs and walks into the kitchen, deciding on making the two of them some hot chocolate, knowing that nothing comforts Emma better when she's feeling uneasy.

Just as he's finishing pouring the steaming brown liquid into the mugs, she emerges from the bathroom and walks beside him.

"You made hot chocolate?" she asks in surprise and as he adds the final ingredient to their drinks – cinnamon – her whole face lights up like a kid's on Christmas.

"Aye." He nods as he hands her one of the mugs before offering her his flask of rum, knowing she also likes to spice it up with his favorite beverage.

His shirt looks a bit amusing on her, given that he's taller than her. And even though the dark fabric covers her lovely backside – she, of course, didn't get rid of her black stockings – her slim, shapely legs are somewhat still on display.

No.

He won't think about how he would slowly pull down her stockings and kiss his way up…

He takes a quick sip of his drink and tries not to look at her as she sits down on one of the armchairs, tucking her legs underneath her.

She does the same, closing her eyes as the warm liquid cascades down her throat. "Mmm…This is heaven," she all but moans into her mug and Killian has to stifle a groan.

He looks at her with longing as some of the whipped cream on top of her drink sticks to her upper lip and starts toying with the idea of how it would taste if he were to kiss it from her inviting mouth.

He shakes his head and clears his throat, which makes her lift her gaze up to him, and she narrows her eyes suspiciously as if she just read his thoughts.

Sometimes it's quite alarming just how well they can read each other.

"So, Swan, how does your superpower work?" he starts, tilting his head to the side as she raises one of her eyebrows at his question.

"My superpower?"

"Aye, the one you told me about when we first met. You said you can read people very well."

She opens her mouth then closes it, as if she's not sure she should answer him. He tries to look at her encouragingly, telling her with his eyes that she can tell him anything. He feels this conversation might be a turning point in their relationship and he doesn't want to let this chance slip away.

She must see the sincerity in his eyes because, after a few moments, she replies, "I've had enough experience in my life to recognize when people are being deceitful." Her lips pull into a bitter smile and she looks down at her already half empty mug and Killian fears that she won't let him in more than this, because she doesn't seem like she wants to comment on the subject any further.

Is it so uncustomary for her to talk about herself? Has there ever been someone at all she could share her story with? He suspects if he wants to learn about her some more, he has to be the one who starts sharing.

"My mother died when I was really young and my father abandoned me not long after. I was put into a foster home and spent a couple years there until my brother was old enough to become my guardian." She's listening to him with a perfectly straight face, but her eyes widen slightly when she hears he's an orphan too. "I probably wasn't there as long as you were, but I guess I just wanted to say that I do know what it feels like to lose hope and believe that you're all alone in the world."

They stare at each other for a while in silence and Killian desperately wants to know what she's thinking. Will she shut him out even though he shared a piece of his past? Or will she finally let her walls down enough that he could take a peek inside?

His questions are answered when she sighs, nods almost unnoticed, as if to herself, and looks at him with determination. "My parents abandoned me on the side of a road, not even caring enough to drop me off at a hospital," she laughs, humorlessly, and it's probably the first sound he doesn't like coming out of her mouth. "After that, I just bounced from one group home to the other. I got picked up by foster families a few times but they only needed me for the money and meal ticket, nothing more. I got tossed out when they considered me too much work and everything would start all over again." She's looking at a spot in the room with unfocused eyes as she speaks and his heart sinks to his stomach at her words.

Her experience is horrible. He never got picked up by any family, and even though at that time he thought something must have been wrong with him because of that, now he thanks his lucky stars they didn't, for Liam would probably never have found him.

"After a while, I just had enough and ran away, lived on my own on the streets and had to learn how to fend for myself." She finishes what's left of her drink and places the mug on the coffee table, and when she leans back again all he wants to do is place his arms around her and chase away the demons in her eyes.

He offers her his flask of rum and she takes it with a grateful smile before taking a sip from it.

He curses himself and his curiosity for opening up old wounds, but before he can offer that she doesn't need to tell him more and instead talk about something else, she continues. "And then I met Neal," she utters his name in such disdain that Killian can only imagine what the man did to earn such hatred from her.

At the thought of someone hurting her, unfathomable anger clouds his eyes for a moment. She must sense his stormy state of mind and probably sees the deep frown on his face because she begins telling him a tale about a man finding her sleeping in a stolen car and offering her to teach her how to pick locks and stay in motel rooms without paying for them. She tells him how they traveled through cities with nothing but their stolen yellow Bug and how they robbed small stores together and the way she thought she was in love with him and he with her. And finally, she tells him that he only needed her to take the fall for a crime she didn't commit, how she found out that their travels through the country weren't an adventure, but his way of dodging the cops, and how she ended up in juvie after his betrayal.

He listens to her intently, drinking in every word that leaves her mouth.

"That's where I met David," she continues, a small smile is playing at her lips. "He was a trainee there at the time and was involved in my case. He wasn't like the others, though, who worked there. He never once looked at me with judgmental eyes or treated me as a criminal. He actually wanted to help me."

At her words, a new kind of appreciation runs through him for his friend. "After I served my time, he was there for me and the next thing I knew I was adopted by his widowed mother, Ruth."

She finishes her story with wonder, and Killian can't decide if it's because she told him all of this or because she still can't believe that she's part of a family. She takes one last gulp from his flask before handing it back to him and rests her head against the backrest.

He watches her as she lets out a deep sigh. Relief, anger, and gratitude wash over him as he processes her words – relief that she trusted him with her past, anger at the son of a bitch who used and betrayed her, and gratitude towards David and Ruth for helping her heal and being there for her.

"You're a tough lass, I always knew that." He flashes a smile at her when she glances at him again, trying to lighten the mood.

It seems to be working because her lips curve upwards for a moment before saying, barely above a whisper, "Yeah well, tell that to my nightmares."

Her eyes widen when she realizes she said it out loud and his ears perk up at this information. "You have them?"

She swallows before answering. "Well, not exactly nightmares…just…," she pauses and glances at him. Killian assumes she searches his face for any sign that she shouldn't be telling her anything more about herself.

He nods and smiles at her encouragingly and it must have been enough, for she continues. "Sometimes I dream that I'm still alone or that another family abandoned me. Then my sleep is uneasy and I always wake up exhausted." She falls silent and her tired and resigned tone clenches at his heart.

He takes a sip from his flask, deep in thought, and watches Emma, who's staring at a spot in front of her with wistful eyes.

How could he cheer her up? How could he distract her from the hurtful thoughts and memories that their conversation and his blasted thirst for knowledge had stirred?

Only one thing comes to his mind, though he would be breaking his promise with that. But he isn't so sure Emma would appreciate what he has in mind. Dare he suggest it to her? What would she do? Would she run away…or would she stay? Would she even want that?

He must do something because her gaze is growing more and more somber by the second. Killian doesn't want her to shut the world out again when she is finally ready to let him in. But maybe it isn't the best idea to bother her with his fantasies and show her how much he wants her. At the same time, it would certainly jolt her out of this almost catatonic state.

What should he do?


	5. Chapter 5

**_Hi guys!_**

 ** _I was supposed to update yesterday, but I had a lot to do and completely slipped my mind. But here I am with the newest chapter that I'm really hoping you will like._**

 ** _A slight warning: mild adult content (for now *wink)_**

* * *

 **Chapter 5**

Too much.

Emma knows that she simply said too much, revealed too much, and now she feels vulnerable. She has never talked to anyone in so much detail about her life – except for David and Ruth, of course. In truth, no one has ever been this interested in her in the first place. That's what messed with her mind, actually; his curious and receptive clear blue eyes, his tender expression made her sing like a canary and tell him almost everything about her without thinking. She told him because it actually felt good to talk about it. She got a little high on the fact that he was genuinely interested and wasn't just trying to small talk her but wanted to understand her.

And now she feels troubled and uncomfortable.

She's staring ahead in daze and trying to process the fact that she had never been as honest with anyone as she was with Killian a few minutes ago.

What is it about him that makes her so drawn to him?

Emma is scared. Terrified of the emotions she's feeling right now.

It's like the quiet, alarming rustling of trees when the wind wafts the sinister and dark scent of storm towards them. She's scared of the lust arising in her body over and over again.

She's scared that she will fall in love with him.

Because, beyond a doubt, Killian is exactly the kind of man she could simply fall for. His humor, the fact that he is so full of secrets waiting to be solved. He's kind and thoughtful, and there's something about him that makes her act like a silly little moth circling around a candle flame.

And she wants the light and warmth.

She will surely be swallowed up in all of this, if she lets herself. Killian can destroy her. It's as clear as the silent, frozen dawns in winter. Emma can see it.

She needs to get up and go home. Then…then she needs to avoid Killian as much as possible. She needs to run away…again. She doesn't care about the stupid list and their bet, she needs to run as long as it's still possible.

As long as she still can.

Could she be able to do it at all?

She takes one last sip from his flask and hands it back to him. She doesn't look at him, just slides down slightly on the armchair and rests her head against the backrest, closing her eyes. It would be so good to fall asleep right now and forget everything. It would also be quiet nice to wake up in the morning to find that life is easy, simple and problem-less.

But as soon as her eyelids close, the image of his hungry eyes breaks into her mind. The picture is so clear as if she were looking straight at him.

Suddenly, she hears him stirring, hears his slow and cautious steps as if he were worried that his approach would make her bolt for the door.

She also hears the rustling of his jeans as he kneels down in front of her.

She opens her eyes and glances at him with eyes shining vividly, watching his movements. He gently raises his hand to her cheek and brushes the corner of her mouth with his index finger and Emma – without awareness of what she's doing – lifts her head up slightly. He leans a bit closer, his lips hovering above the curve of her neck as his hand slides to the back of her head, tangling his fingers into her golden mane.

She can feel his warm breath on the delicate skin of her neck. "Killian…" she moans, her voice carrying more plea than warning.

He doesn't stop his movements, his scarred hand glides up her stocking covered thighs and stops at the hem of her shirt briefly before his long fingers sneak under the dark material, touching the bare skin of her hip.

A thrill runs through her and her eyes flutter shut.

"Emma?" he asks, voice hoarse and muffled.

She has lost the ability to speak. She should say something, but she can't.

"Do you want me to stop?"

 _No, not in the least_ , she wants to say. But damn it, she shouldn't want it…

"Emma, say something…"

She can't. She isn't even capable of opening her eyes again. But she can't let it go further, they can't continue this. This doesn't make any sense. It's torture…

"I won't carry on further unless you say you want me to."

Why is he asking her this? Why is he such a freaking gentleman? Why doesn't he just take her? Doesn't he understand that she is incapable of saying ' _yes, I want you to continue'?_

Suddenly, he's not touching her and there is only silence and emptiness. Her entire body is craving and longing. An involuntary groan escapes her lips – a sore, sharp sound, just like when glass breaks, scattering the shards all over.

"Do you…want to?" Killian asks hesitantly, his voice tinted with yearning and hope.

No, she shouldn't want to. Not like this – or at all. Not with Killian. But nothing serious has to happen – it's just touching.

Right?

Three little words. She wants it. She wants it so bad – so why doesn't she just utter them? What is she so afraid of? Why is she so scared?

For almost two weeks now she's been plagued with erotic dreams, her body is like a tightened bow every morning. She itches to see what he would do to her. She's curious and terrified and maybe a little mortified, because all she knows is that she needs him to touch her. She won't be sleeping with him, it will be just a little exploring.

Like a game…

"I want it," she whispers breathlessly.

He blows out the air in what she assumes is relief, but she can't be sure because she doesn't dare to look at him. His left hand resumes its place on her hip, the other slowly climbs up her shirt-covered stomach, up to her breasts and pops the first button on top.

She arches into his touch as he drops a quick kiss to her collarbone, the feel of his warm lips on her skin sends shivers down her spine.

His mouth continues exploring her as he pops two more buttons, exposing the top of her lacy black bra and his lips brush the valley between her breasts. His right hand follows the path of his warm mouth, tugging away the shirt by the collar so he can slip his hand inside. He cups her warm, full breast gently before he sweeps his thumb over her hardened nipple through the thin fabric covering it.

Emma goes weak in the knees at his touch, and it's pretty fortunate that she's already in a seated position. An agonizingly sweet desire is throbbing between her thighs, her entire body is hot from restrained passion. Her breathing is heavy and labored, and as his other hand travels up her spine she arches her back, inadvertently pushing her barely covered chest closer to his face.

She isn't thinking or agonizing over what she's doing anymore; she's simply letting Killian take complete control over her. To be honest, she has long lost her ability to use her head because the tension in her body is growing more and more with each passing second.

She lets out a helpless, involuntary moan.

Killian lets go of her breast and unfastens the remaining buttons on the black shirt, then smooths his hand along her now exposed stomach down to the waistband of her stockings.

He slips his hand inside and Emma trembles.

Scorching fire and euphoria rush through her veins.

His lips take residence just a little below her ear, and she doesn't know how the hell he managed to discover her damned weak spot. This man.

He continues to plant kisses on her neck, while his fingers rub and stroke her through her panties. She can barely catch her breath, the hotness in her body is almost unbearable and…

"Let go, love. Just let go," he breathes quietly against the shell of her ear.

She clamps her legs together on instinct as a strong pang of desire shoots through her, trapping his hand between her thighs and pressing his palm flat against her throbbing center. It's only a tiny movement, yet it's enough to release the tension in her body, to induce a wave of pleasure that crashes over her entire being. It isn't all-consuming or liberating, but it still gives her a great amount of relief, and Emma is all too happy to get lost in it.

She's brought back to reality at the sound of his heavy and ragged panting. That's when it dawns on her exactly what just happened. Her face turns crimson red with humiliation.

This is impossible.

Absolute nonsense.

She couldn't possibly have had an orgasm just from…But she had. This…Emma has no idea what she's feeling right now. She's confused as hell and everything feels like a jumbled mess, and yet, her body is satiated and happy.

This is…mortifying.

She let Killian…

 _Oh God_ , how could she let him?

"Swan, are you alright?" he asks as his hands break contact with her body and he places them on either side of her on the armchair.

 _No, I'm not, for fuck's sake! I just had a freaking orgasm while you were barely touching me and you watched the whole thing!_

"Love?"

 _I won't look at you, please don't ask that of me…_

"Can I touch you again?"

 _No, no, no…_

"Yes."

He lifts his hand to her cheek and gently touches her soft skin, and she feels the dizzying echoes of the pleasure that ran through her moments ago.

"Swan, I would very much like to know if you're okay," he speaks in a soft voice.

She swallows hard. Hesitantly, she wets her parched lips with her tongue. Killian watches the movement.

"I'm fine." Her voice is hoarse.

"Are you mad at me?" he questions her sheepishly, his voice hesitant.

"No." Her lips pull into the faintest of smiles.

How could she be angry at him when he only gave her exactly what she craved? How could she be angry, when she let…when she wanted this to happen? The only person she should be mad at is herself. She was stupid and foolish.

"Then why won't you look at me?"

 _How could I look at you after what happened?_

She shakes her head weakly and doesn't answer. She feels incredibly lost. But the fact that he's still touching her keeps her here in the present and in this moment.

It's good.

He doesn't let her sink into the darkness that's threatening to swallow her up.

"What I wouldn't give to know what is going through in that pretty little head of yours," he murmurs.

She still doesn't dare to open her eyelids. She's not brave enough to look him in the eye.

What is he thinking of her now?

"I would like if you stayed the night," he whispers suddenly and before Emma can say anything in return, he pulls away from her for a moment. He slips one of his arms under her knees, the other around her waist and lifts her up with ease, as if she were a bag of feathers.

Just a few steps and they're in his bedroom and on his bed, Emma is lying on her side, her back facing him. She can feel his erection against her ass as he settles behind her – hot and hard – and it's like it's burning her even through their clothes. She knows it isn't fair to him to leave him like this, but in this moment she feels so worn out that she's incapable to do anything other than to snuggle close to him. She inhales his scent and turns around to rest her head on his chest, listening to his not-so-steady heartbeat.

This is…just simply good.

This time she doesn't want to analyze, think or take into consideration what just happened.

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow she will deal with everything, but for now, she just wants to feel good.

˘. . . ° . . . ˘

"Are you staying?" he asks quietly.

It encourages him a little that she's not pulling away from him, but rather, she's curling up against him. It starts up a warmth in his heart.

"I can't," she murmurs tiredly.

"Why?"

"Because…just can't," she answers in a faint voice.

What is it that grieves her so much? What made her so distressed and almost broken?

He tries to imagine himself in her place, but still, he can't quite figure out why is she seems so troubled. Nothing crucial happened…

Well, that's not true.

Because Emma had an orgasm, and if anything, it simply impressed him, so he won't deny that he's fairly proud of himself for making her reach her climax by barely touching her with his fingers.

Maybe that's the reason she's so vexed?

He mentally slaps himself on the forehead. Of course, this may cause her to feel embarrassed, perhaps even uncomfortable and horrified. After all, she did let go, allowing him to see her in such an intimate moment. She let the effect he has on her take her over and it must have definitely scared her.

He too, almost came in his jeans by just watching her undone by his hands. His hard-on felt unbearable in those moments and he can't quite understand how he didn't reach his climax. But if the roles had been reversed he would almost certainly feel the same way…Embarrassed and tense.

"Swan, you're bloody amazing, you know that?" he whispers in a tone full of affection.

"Don't feel like it," she answers sharply.

Killian smiles. It would appear that the determined and relentless Emma is starting to come back.

"Then tell me how you feel," he pleads quietly as he strokes her hair gently.

"This shouldn't have happened," she murmurs into his chest and he can detect the guilt and remorse in her tone.

It hurts and he wishes she wouldn't feel this way.

"But you enjoyed it."

"Yes, but…God, don't you understand? This is…humiliating that I…just from…and you also make me a freaking babbling idiot!" she says bewildered and buries her head further against his chest.

"I think what happened was wonderful. I was only hanging by a thread there, Swan, watching you come apart under my touch." His voice is deliberately happy and playful.

He wants Emma to see that what happened is nothing to be ashamed of or regret. That he won't look at her differently – or he will, but not the way she thinks. At present, he is even more in awe of her.

"But this is…I'm pathetic," she shakes her head.

"You're amazing."

"We could argue about that 'til dawn."

"Fine by me," he replies cheerfully.

Emma sighs. "Why do you want me to stay?"

"It would do you no good to go home now. You're tired and exhausted, you could sleep right now. And Liam wouldn't have to turn twice, he can pick up both of us here for the getaway at Ruth's." He sees as her eyes widen for a second and he doesn't know if it's because she forgot about their little trip to her adoptive family's house or because she's anxious about what Liam would think if he sees her here. "And I want you to stay. I'll be a gentleman, I promise."

"You don't know how to be one." He can practically hear the smirk in her voice.

Killian's happy that she's, again, in the mood to be a little cheeky. This is perhaps a good sign.

"Of course I do. I'm always a gentleman," he grumbles in feigned outrage.

"You're a liar," she protests.

"Maybe a little," he laughs softly. "But I don't want to let you go now," he adds honestly and seriously.

"Why?"

Killian is silent. He has to think over her question if he wants to answer truthfully. Her breathing becomes quiet as he continues to caress and play with her hair. It's beautiful, silky and soft…

What was the question?

"Because I think if I let you go now, you would never talk to me again," he responds softly, "and I don't want that. Therefore, I'm trying to persuade you to stay here, so you have enough time to process what happened and then maybe… " He smiles sadly. "…maybe you won't run away from me."

"I will. I always do. And it would never work between us," she replies in a dazed tone.

Killian isn't sure if she's still awake or halfway to Dream Land.

"Why are you so sure about that?"

"Because…because I'm not that kind of girl who can be tolerated in long-term. And you're not the kind of guy who would settle for one girl," she murmurs in a tone blurred with fatigue.

He doesn't answer immediately. He genuinely considers her words but to no avail. He doesn't bloody understand why she thinks so lowly of herself. She's anything but intolerable. And as for her other statement…

"You're wrong. I think you would be enough for me," he whispers quietly into her hair.

She doesn't reply. Her breathing has evened out and Killian is surprised to discover that she's simply fallen asleep in his arms.

"You're wrong," he repeats and he doesn't know why.

Yet, now that he's said it, he knows it's true, that he really feels this way. Emma is compelling and intriguing, full of colors and shades, and Killian wants to solve her every riddle. He has never really felt this way about anyone – it's frightening and alarming, but calming at the same time.

He doesn't want to consider the fact the Emma might never reciprocate his feelings, that she…That she only wants the same thing from him as other women before – unforgettably great sex and nothing more. And if he thinks about this he feels desperation and insecurity gripping at his chest.

He wants to believe that Emma wants him too – not just his body, not just sex, but all of him. After all, if she only wanted him between the sheets she wouldn't be so anxious, would she? It wouldn't matter then, but maybe, deep in her heart she wants more from him and that's what scares her so much.

That's why she wants to run.

Killian doesn't know how, but he's determined to convince her to give this thing that's between them a shot. To try what it's like to be together. Maybe they will fail or hurt each other in the end, but isn't it worth the risk that they might end up happy? Would it be worth it to do nothing just because they are afraid? Would it be worth it to let fear win and destroy the possibility of happiness?

He gently lifts up her arm that is resting across his middle and disentangles her body from his. She stirs a little when he places a blanket over her but doesn't wake as he gets up from the bed. As he lets go of her, she rolls on her side and pulls up her legs slightly.

Killian stares at her from the foot of the bed. She looks quite adorable, all curled up under the deep blue sheet. She appears so young and vulnerable at this moment. Maybe she is. Perhaps there's a fragile little girl, hiding under the defiant exterior who's afraid to reveal herself. Although, she let him somewhat peek through her mask tonight and it's a bloody good feeling.

He watches her for another moment, then gets out of his socks and jeans with a sigh. His erection is still painfully intact which, though quite uncomfortable, doesn't bother him that much now. He switches off the lights and lies down on the other side of the bed and turns on his side to face her. He doesn't move too close to her – he can't really ask for permission this time, and even though she allowed him once to touch her it doesn't feel right to do so now.

He forgot to draw the curtains, and the dull, dim lights from outside illuminate the room enough for him to make out her profile. Her expression is the same as when they walked through the park to his place earlier. The pale lights of the street lamps clung to her face and made it almost ethereal. Like right now.

Killian's lips pull into a smile. As he thinks back to their walk and the snowfall, peace and calm settle over him.

Emma suddenly stirs in her sleep and pulls the covers around her a little more tightly.

Is she cold?

Killian starts to get up to obtain an extra blanket from the closet, but before he can leave the bed he hears her soft whimper.

He quickly abandons his quest, and instead, he scoots closer to her and whispers her name gently when he sees her troubled expression.

" _Sometimes I dream that I'm still alone or that another family abandoned me. Then my sleep is uneasy and I always wake up exhausted."_

Her words echo in his ears and the sadness in her voice rings clearly.

Her breathing becomes more ragged and shallow as her eyebrows knit together. Her past is playing a cruel game on her subconscious in her sleep. He tries to soothe her with his voice, whispering reassuring words in her ear. When he throws all caution away and touches her hair gently, Emma suddenly relaxes and stops mumbling.

He continues to gently stroke her hair and to his utter amazement, a small smile appears on her lips.

Killian swallows and sighs at this predicament and quickly makes a decision. After he makes sure that she's peacefully asleep, he gets up from the bed and walks into the kitchen. He pours water into a mug and puts it in the microwave. He takes it out before the timer can go off as to not disturb Emma's sleep and grabs a packet of instant coffee, rips it open and dumps the contents of it into the steaming water, then stirs it thoroughly.

When he returns to the bedroom Emma is no longer smiling. She's mumbling again and Killian can feel every agitated and painful sound that leaves her lips tearing into his heart.

He sits on the bed, settles some pillows behind his back and leans back tiredly. He takes a sip from his coffee, puts it down on his nightstand and carefully, so as to not wake her, he gathers the blonde beauty next to him in his arms, and resumes soothing her with soft words and light touches.

Her whimpers stop as if by magic.

Well, if he wishes to give her a restful sleep and keep her nightmares at bay, this is promising to be a long night – a long, hard night, but Killian still thinks it's worth it.


	6. Chapter 6

_**Hi guys!  
Thank you all for the favs, follows and reviews! I see and appreciate every one of you for leaving a feedback on my story! It really motivates me to finish the next chapters sooner :) Also thanks to my beta for correcting my mistakes.**_

 _ **(tumblr acc: mycaptainswanjones)**_

* * *

 **Chapter 6**

Emma feels like a kitten who has just eaten its fill as she stretches on the bed, practically purring in delight as she does so. She has no idea when the last time was that she slept so well. She doesn't even know if she's _ever_ slept this good. She feels calm, without an ounce of tension in her body. The snippets of her dreams slowly fade away from under her eyelids, and she tries to cling to them for a little longer but they stubbornly flutter away. She can barely recall them now but she knows they were peaceful and amazing.

Her lids are heavy as lead but she manages to open them. For a fleeting moment, she doesn't recognize where she is, then suddenly the events of yesterday flood her mind like a rainfall. Her momentary inner peace instantly evaporates. She shuts her eyes, takes a deep breath, and squints towards her left side.

Killian is sound asleep on his back – well, not quite on his back, more like in a half-seated position, which is very odd. Is it really comfortable? He will surely get a serious crick in his neck and back. Maybe she should wake him up…

No, that's out of the question.

She won't be able to look him in the eye, not yet, at least not for a little while. She needs to get her act together first. Everything that happened yesterday…it's too confusing. The fact that Killian had such an effect on her scares the shit out of her.

Though perhaps it wasn't even Killian, but that she hadn't had sex in a long time and the tension caused by her dreams was to blame. She tries to convince herself of that, but deep in her heart she knows that no matter how frustrated she was, no man's touch could have ever evoked such strong reactions from her.

She sits up and her gaze falls on the digital clock on the nightstand. It's barely seven o'clock. It's quite unbelievable that she's up this early and even more so that she feels well-rested. If she can, she usually sleeps late and she almost always feels weary and beat-up upon awakening.

She draws her legs up and wraps her arms around her knees tightly. She watches him in the looming, dim light. He's handsome and extremely attractive, but…it can't be enough. She's met good looking men in the past, gotten intimate with them, but she never had an orgasm like the one yesterday.

He was barely even touching her, for God's sake.

It doesn't count as sex, not by a long shot. And if he so much as dares to bring up their little bet because of this he will find his precious guitar without its strings.

She rests her head on her arms in shame. How could this happen?

She knows it won't be easy to get over it, but at the same time, she realizes, she can't run away from Killian, either. Even if she slips out of the apartment now, that wouldn't solve anything. She has to face the facts this time – she has to face Killian, and if it's something she needs to do, it's better if it's just the two of them when it happens.

She makes a decision to stop worrying about things. What's done is done. It's pretty unnecessary to brood over something that's cannot be changed no matter how uncomfortable (and even awkward) it is. It will work itself out in the end…

Hopefully.

She glances at him again and watches him with pensive eyes and a faint smile. She notices his eyelids quiver again and again.

That's strange, she frowns. He hasn't moved a muscle since she woke up and there's a soft smile playing on his lips, which could be from a dream but what if…

"No…" she lets out a groan that's barely audible.

If he's awake, then it doesn't matter that his eyes are closed, he knows exactly that she's been staring at him for minutes now.

On an impulse, she leans closer to him, their faces a mere inch apart – and the bed gives out a creak at her sudden movement.

He holds back his breath, which confirms her suspicion.

"You're not sleeping," she accuses in a grumpy tone, and for safety's sake, she pulls away from him.

Killian opens one eye and keeps the other shut, which doesn't make sense but Emma finds his playfulness adorable and an involuntary smile tugs at her lips.

"How did you know?"

"You moved your eyelids and your breathing was uneven," she explains. "Why did you pretend to be asleep?"

He sits up higher and shrugs. "I didn't want you to feel uncomfortable."

Her eyes widen in surprise. "That's…kind of you," she mumbles in a daze.

"Aye, I told you I'm a gentleman," he replies in a cheerful tone.

For a moment, she regards him with suspicion, but he looks back with complete innocence - maybe too innocent – and she has no idea what it means.

"Did you sleep well?" she asks, tilting her head to the side.

Despite his smile, he looks absolutely tired and worn out.

He shrugs again. "I was craving you, and even though you were here within reach, I couldn't touch you the way I wanted," he replies.

His words are squeezing her heart. It's a sweet ache she doesn't want to feel, but she can't do anything about it.

"I'm sorry," she murmurs.

"It's not your fault," he replies gently and it makes her feel a twinge of conscience.

A faint blush creeps onto her cheeks as she thinks about yesterday and how she felt him press against her as he laid next to her on the bed.

 _No_ , she can't think about that, because even the thought of it causes her to feel a slight tingle between her legs.

"Would you mind if I took a bath?" she asks suddenly, but in truth, she just wants to distract herself.

"Not at all," he responds in a deep voice as he raises one of his eyebrows suggestively.

"Killian…" she groans exasperatedly.

She fixes him with a cold stare but he doesn't even show a drop of regret or shame, he only sends her a grin.

"Apologies, I couldn't resist."

She shakes her head with resignation and shifts to sit on her heels, facing him on the bed. "Can I borrow one of your books?"

"Do you like reading in the tub?" he asks in surprise.

"Yeah. Why?" she flashes him a skeptical look.

"I like it too," he says as if it were something particularly meaningful.

 _But it isn't,_ Emma thinks sullenly. Many like to read while taking a bath, right?

She turns her gaze to the shelf above the bed, full of fine literature, and settles on her knees to properly inspect all of them. She's aware of Killian impudently eyeing her up and down, but she tries to ignore him. Her eyes run through the titles of the books, then stretching up slightly, she grabs one of them from the shelf.

"Good choice," he notes warmly.

She plops back down on the bed and smiles at him half-heartedly. "Thanks."

"By the way, how did you sleep?" he asks all of a sudden, his tone concealed with curiosity.

"Surprisingly well," she replies and her cheeks redden slightly.

"You know that my bed is always available for you, right? If you want, that is."

"I'm not so sure it was the bed…" She goes silent as her own words register in her mind.

Why the hell did she just say that? It's a given that the reason she didn't have any erotic dreams last night was probably because she had an orgasm but…Why the fuck did she have to share this piece of information with him?

A deep blush creeps onto her face as she perceives the understanding in his eyes.

"Swan, about yesterday…"

"I don't want to talk about it, Killian," she interrupts him quickly and firmly, and is about to add more but suddenly he's leaning closer to her and places a finger against her lips.

Her words get stuck in her throat at that instant.

"I only wanted to say," he continues gently, "that you shouldn't regret what happened. It was beautiful. _You_ were beautiful."

Her eyes widen in fear. She doesn't want him to talk about it. Can't they just forget all of this?

She really doesn't want to relive how she let her stupid hormones get the best of her. Even if it felt so mind-blowingly amazing to be touched by him, she really can't go back being that vulnerable.

Not right now, at least.

"But I won't mention it again," he says as if reading her thoughts, and then his index finger runs down her lips. He places his hand on her cheek.

His palm is so warm and soft – she shivers, and a burning desire rushes through her body. His hand then slides to her neck, down to her collarbone and stops a little above her breast.

Emma feels like she's going to crumble.

"How fast your heart beats…" he whispers, and his voice is as deep as the desire swallowing up her common sense in an unbridled vortex.

"I would really like to kiss you, Swan. Just one single kiss…"

His voice is pure seduction for her ears and she succumbs to it helplessly. "Okay," she breathes shakily and before she has time to process, his lips are brushing hers.

Passion erupts between them. There's no gentle exploration or hesitation, their lips greedily and hungrily devour each other. Their tongues dance in sync and Emma feels something crack inside her.

It's her resistance, possibly.

He tastes like hope and midnights under turning galaxies... She wants to get lost in it.

The book falls from her hands, landing on the floor with a silent thud and she's already touching him. Her fingers tangle in his hair, then her palm slides to his neck from the back of his head and she feels how frighteningly rapid his pulse is.

His heart must beat as madly as her own.

Their tongues continue to explore each other wildly and desperately, like it's the first and last time. Like the world is about to end.

His hand is on her waist and he pulls her to him - closer and closer - and Emma doesn't protest; it doesn't even cross her mind because she wants to feel him.

All of him.

He playfully bites into her lower lip and her response is a moan full of lust.

It's all crazy and passionate. She can't bear it…yet, she wants more of it because it's not enough.

It's never enough.

Panting, Killian suddenly pulls back and even pushes her away gently. Emma is taken by surprise at this abrupt retreat. She wavers a bit.

"Go bathe…" His voice feels like a dark shiver.

She opens her eyes – when did she close them? – and looks at him. The lust in his predatory gaze is so startling that an involuntary tremble shoots through her.

"Yeah…" she manages.

Emma nods but doesn't move to do so. She can't. Something inside her fights for her common sense, but it isn't strong enough to win.

"Now, Swan!" he says firmly.

Is his body really shaking?

Yes, it's as if he's trembling.

"Okay," she mumbles and pulls away.

As she turns from him, her rational side starts to return.

What did she do again?

Baffled, she picks up the book from the floor and with shaky legs, she rushes to the bathroom. As she closes the door she can no longer hold herself up. Leaning against the wooden surface, she slides down to the cold tiles.

What the hell has gotten into her? Why did she let it happen? And why was it so unbelievably amazing to kiss Killian? Why does she feel this strange, mind-bending dizziness since their lips touched?

Her heart is beating furiously in her chest – it must feel the danger. The danger whispering the craziest of words: _You're going to fall for him_.

Numbly, she's hitting her head against the door, every single dull and soft thud against the hard surface echoing the word: _No, no, no._ She can't do it again, she can't let it happen. She could really fall for Killian, honestly and truly, but he's not the kind of guy she can give her heart to.

This can't happen.

She gets up from the floor, places the book on the bamboo cabinet and starts filling the tub with water. In the absence of bubble bath (because she deserves to have a good soak and the environment will forgive her) she picks up the shower gel sitting on the edge of the tub and squeezes a little into the so-hot-it-will-melt-your-face-off water.

Just as she's closing the lid of the bottle, its scent hits her nostrils. Her damn legs go weak again. This scent is…Killian smells just like this. Well, not just this, but this is definitely _him_. The heat in her body that had started to finally subside, is now in raging mode again.

No _fucking_ way.

She can't be turned on just by the scent of a stupid shower gel.

This is absurd.

She closes the bottle with anger and quickly shoves it back to its previous place.

Her hands are shaking, she realizes.

She feels ridiculous and pathetic, but all the while wanting to…She wants to…

 _No_ , she can't think about that, let alone crave it.

Again, why the hell did she let him kiss her?

It was crazy and stupid. And it will certainly encourage him.

How will she resist him now?

And anyway, how can she do this to him?

It's like she's toying with him, intentionally arousing him.

This is so cruel.

Without thinking, she marches back to the bedroom. He's still sitting on the bed with his back against the headboard, staring straight ahead with an expressionless face.

"I'm sorry," she says quietly.

Slowly, he turns his head to look at her. "Why?"

"I…I didn't want to umm…work you up. That's not fair, and I'm sorry, but…"

"Swan, stop," he cuts her off. "Maybe you don't know this, but your mere presence is enough to turn me on. You have nothing to apologize for."

"In that case, don't you think it would be wise if we keep our distance?"

"No."

"Why?"

He gives her a lazy smile. It's a gut-wrenchingly hot smile, she has to admit.

"Waiting increases the desire."

"I don't think it can be increased any further…" she claps her hand over her mouth bewildered.

No, it's not possible that she just said that out loud.

"Fuck," she whispers.

"Two," he says and she thinks she can hear satisfaction in his tone.

"What's two?" she asks, lowering her hand suspiciously.

"The number of curses you uttered since the bet." His lips pull into a teasing Half-smile. "I told you I'll be counting."

She stares at him, frozen. She feels the anger starts bubbling in her body, but right now she doesn't feel strong (or dedicated) enough to confront him. So she turns around without sparing him a glance and escapes to the bathroom.

Again.

˘. . . ° . . . ˘

Killian regrets that Emma feels guilty, but there's nothing he can do about it. He, for his part, doesn't mind that he has to wait. There's something delightfully dark and sweet in waiting, something quite intoxicating – like standing motionless in a raging storm.

He can't quite explain it even to himself, but the fact that Emma isn't giving in, but holds on and fights, makes her more admirable in his eyes. Of course, he isn't necessarily pleased with the fact, but he respects her decision and he knows that she intends to stick with it even if he tries to sweep her off her feet.

Not many can resist such sensual attacks, especially when deep down, they don't want to. Although, if he hadn't stopped just now, Emma wouldn't have protested. But it wouldn't have been honorable on his part.

And she would have run for the hill as soon as it was over.

He shuts his eyes tiredly. In truth, it wasn't even fair to advance on her in the first place, but he simply couldn't think straight.

The way she was looking at him. The way a faint blush appeared on her soft cheeks…

His mind was in such disarray that he didn't possess the ability to resist it. Though, considering that he was up almost all night trying and chase away all her bad dreams, it isn't a surprise.

And it was so incredibly amazing. He can still feel the taste of her, like quiet midnights and contented dreams.

He slides lower on the bed. He will only sleep for a minute, just until Emma comes out of the bathroom – at least he won't think of her in the meantime or of what is really preventing him from entering the bathroom.

The darkness of unconsciousness engulfs him in seconds.

He wakes up to a careful and soft voice calling his name. It feels like as if only a few minutes had passed. His thoughts are swimming in his head and he has to force his eyes to open.

Emma stands by the bed, her sinfully blue dress adorns her body again. She looks like an angel. A broken-winged, sad angel.

"Good morning," she whispers softly.

Disoriented, he blinks and sits up with difficulty, his limbs are quite stiff.

"What time is it?" his voice is muffled with sleepiness.

"Almost ten thirty," she replies. "Liam called and said he will be here in an hour. I thought you would want to take a shower."

"Aye, that would be nice," he nods.

He rubs his eyes and face with his hands, and when he glances at Emma again he feels a little more awake.

He notices her nervous stance.

"Is there something wrong?" he asks with a rising anxiety in his voice.

Emma bites into her lip and pulls out her hand from behind her back, holding up the book she took with her in the bathroom. It looks a bit strange – wavy and a little thicker than it was before.

"I'm sorry, I…accidentally dropped it in the water. But I'll buy you a new one next week, I promise…" she rambles.

"Swan, calm down. It's all right," he assures her with a smile.

"Are you sure?"

"Aye."

"But I'll still buy you a new one," she repeats.

"And I will cherish it greatly."

"I made you coffee." She picks up a mug from the nightstand he hasn't noticed and hands it to him.

"Thank you," he says and can't suppress the teasing smile appearing on his lips.

"What are you smiling at?" She looks at him skeptically

"I was just wondering if the reason you made me coffee was because you wanted to soften me up for what happened with the book," he explains.

Her eyes narrow at hearing his answer. "Then I would have given you the coffee first before confessing my awful crime."

"That's true."

She steps away from the bed and sits down on the windowsill not far from him. "Usually I take responsibility for my actions," she informs him quietly. "Even if it's running away."

Killian searches her face, tilting his head to the side. Sheer determination is swimming in her eyes and he doesn't like it one bit. "Why are you saying that?" he asks suspiciously.

"Because…never mind," she shakes her head.

"I do mind. You don't want to run away, right?" No matter how hard he tries, he can't hide the fear and worry in his voice.

"No, I don't."

"Then what?"

"I will try to avoid you," she replies indifferently.

His heart clenches. Why is it always one step forward and two – or three – steps back with them?

"Why?"

"I'm afraid of you," she responds in a flat tone.

"But…why?" Bewilderment settles on his face.

"Look, Killian, I usually develop feelings for guys like you. Well, not exactly like you, but the womanizer part is correct. My previous boyfriends – you don't remind me of them at all, by the way – but to be perfectly honest, you seem even more dangerous because of it. I could fall for you, maybe it's…

"What do you mean?" he interrupts her.

He tries to stay composed, but her words are whispering things to him that makes him want to pull her on his lap and kiss her until they both get lost in euphoria.

"In my past relationships…well, I think I was in love with the thought that someone loved me and needed me and not…" She sighs and takes a deep breath. "You know what happened with Neal. And with Walsh. I don't want to experience it again when I lay under someone and they think of somebody else. I couldn't bear it. It's humiliating and painful…knowing that they only use you and you're not the one they want. That you're not wanted. I'm…sorry," The resignation in her voice is almost palpable.

Killian feels an all-consuming anger stirring up inside him and his heart aches terribly for her.

"I've had enough," she continues. "I'd appreciate it if you…didn't try to kiss me anymore," she says slightly flustered and looks down, then lifts her eyes to him again in determination. "I…like being with you, you're a good company, but…I just want to you to be simply my friend."

He shakes his head. "We both know it wouldn't work. Not with such desire between us,"

Perhaps it would be wise to go along with her idea, to pretend, but it would be a lie. And he doesn't want to lie. Not to her.

"Well…at least I tried," her lips pull into a bitter smile.

"What do you mean?" he asks with a frown.

"It means I will avoid you," she declares and her voice is filled with a chilling determination.

They maintain eye contact for a few moments, and then Killian starts speaking slowly and carefully. He doesn't want Emma to think he's uncertain. "You really don't consider it possible for me to fall in love with you?"

"Not really," her voice is indifferent, void of any emotions and this coldness scares the shit out of him. "Look, Killian, I don't know how to be in a relationship anymore. I'll be always looking for the next exit and you'll get tired of my constant uncertainty. Eventually, you'll grow to hate me. I don't want that, Killian."

"You don't trust me."

"I barely know you," she says quietly and hesitates a little before saying: "But…"

"Aye?" he encourages her.

She takes a deep breath and exhales, and it comes out as a sad, painful sigh. Her eyes, though, are steel hard. "Guys like you usually never change, or at least I don't think I would be a good enough reason for a change. It wouldn't be worth…"

"What do you mean 'guys like me'?" he cuts her off.

"Well," she averts her eyes, "The ones every woman wants, the insanely good-looking guys…"

"So you think I'm insanely good-looking?" He grins at her and can't hide the cheerfulness in his tone.

He understands what Emma is talking about, but he knows deep down in his heart that it's all foolishness. Right now she's frightened and afraid, but Killian won't give up on them, and in no way in hell he will let Emma discourage him, no matter how cold she acts with him.

"That's not the point," she grumbles.

"Oh, I think it is," he persists. "I always knew you thought I was devilishly handsome."

"It doesn't matter what I think of you," she snaps, "because if we sleep together, sooner or later this spark between us will fade, and you would leave me or want somebody else, and I would feel like shit again. And I didn't even mention our families."

"Three," he notes.

She presses her lips together in a straight line. He waits, but stubborn as she is, she stays silent.

"Why do you think that?" he asks when it becomes clear that Emma won't speak again. "I admit, I don't really understand you. If you always run away because you're afraid of the risks, then you never really give yourself the chance to be happy."

Her eyes flash with anger, and Killian is pleased with it. Anything is better than her being sad and painfully indifferent - as if she lost hope for everything. It cuts through his heart.

"Killian, seriously, have you ever had a normal relationship?"

He stiffens slightly at her question but he quickly replaces it with nonchalance and shrugs. "Once I brought a lass home to introduce her to my brother."

She rolls her eyes and shakes her head. "Yeah, and according to your brother, you two weren't a good match and you only did that because that was how things worked out and you wanted to bang her one more time."

"Did my dear brother really say that?" he asks, surprised.

"Well, not exactly with these words," she mutters.

"So you asked Liam about me?" he flashes her a pleased grin.

Her answer is only an exasperated, angry huff.

"We made a bet, Swan. Don't you forget it," he notes and takes a sip from his coffee.

"How is it relevant now?" she blinks at him in confusion.

"I would really like to have that night with you and I won't let you run away. And yes, you can take that as a threat," he warns and, ignoring her taken aback expression, he finishes his coffee, kicks off his blanket and stands from the bed.

It doesn't escape his attention that her eyes start shining with desire.

"And now I'm going to take a bath," he states. "Thank you for the coffee."

He catches her unbelieving expression as he walks past her towards the bathroom, but halts his steps at the doorway and turns around to look at her.

"Oh, and Swan. Perhaps it will come as a shock to you, but I want more from you than just sex."

Pleased with her simultaneously confused and hopeful expression, he turns again and heads into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. He's not in the least surprised when after only a few moments, Emma vehemently tears the door open.

"You won't give up, will you?" she asks, her voice is trembling with suppressed anger.

"It was a valiant effort, I have to give you that," he says and she huffs furiously. "But, no. You can be sure of that."

"But why, Killian?" she questions in a tone full of unfathomable emotions.

"Because, Swan, you mesmerize me." He looks deep into her eyes. "Because I don't believe it wouldn't work between us. Perhaps you don't trust me, and for that matter I think you don't trust yourself, either, and I know you're afraid. But for the first time in my life, I feel I have found someone I don't want to let go. Don't worry, it's as frightening for me as it is for you, but…I want you. And not just in my bed. Since yesterday, I don't just believe it but _know_ that I want you in my life too. That's why," he says firmly and hooks his finger under the hem of his boxer briefs, glancing at her with mischief dancing in his eyes. "Did you just watch me undress?"

Her eyes widen and her cheeks turn as red as a tomato. Without uttering a single word she rushes out of the bathroom and slams the door behind her. He grins at her reaction cheerfully while opening the faucet. He doesn't wait for the tub to be full, he sheds his underwear and sits in the warm water. He leans back with a satisfied and relaxed sigh.

Now he knows what he wished to know. Emma could fall in love with him. She herself said that, so he doesn't have to fear that their relationship would merely be limited to sex. Emma wants him as much as he wants her.

He starts whistling a light and cheerful melody while thinking that he only has to convince Emma to trust him. Trust them.

And, although it won't be an easy task, Killian believes if he doesn't give up, he can succeed. He also knows he will enjoy every minute of it.


	7. Chapter 7

_**Hi guys!**_

 _ **As always, THANK YOU for the favs, follows and reviews! Keep them coming because they give me so much motivation to continue to write this story and know that some of you actually enjoy it! Also, I apologize for my delay, I had so much to do these last couple of days I barely had some free time.**_

 _ **But here's the new chapter, which is the longest so far, so I hope you like it!**_

 _ **And thanks to my beta for always correcting my mistakes!**_

 _ **(tumblr acc: mycaptainswanjones)**_

* * *

 **Chapter 7**

Emma has no idea what she's feeling right now. It rarely happens to her so that's why she doesn't know how to handle the situation. She opens a window in the kitchen and leans out, lighting her last remaining cigarette. Not that it ever made her feel calm, but it feels good to occupy herself with something.

She really wants to swear up a storm, loud enough for Killian to hear and know that her anger and confusion is all because of him. But she won't do it because that asshole is counting every vulgar word coming out of her mouth and it would only make him happier that she broke one of her vows. _Again._ She doesn't want to give him that satisfaction. And anyway, she _has_ to win that stupid bet. If she succeeds, he will get off her back.

But does she really want him to leave her alone?

If the murder of one of his books is any indication, then no. She doesn't. Because if she did, she certainly wouldn't have dropped it _accidentally_ in the water while dirty thoughts of him ran through her mind.

Emma lets out a sigh.

Killian is a good man, she honestly thinks so. He's always so lively and cheerful, a freaking adorable nerd who would never hurt anyone intentionally because he simply has a good heart. He's a guy who believes in the beauty of life and the world – and with some difficulty, she has to admit to herself that when she's with him, she kind of feels the same for a moment or two.

Even if she's extremely furious.

With him, it's hard not to love life. His kindness, playfulness, his ever-present smile…

Killian is a pretty great guy, unfortunately in every aspect. And what he said about wanting her, not just in his bed but in his life too…

A shiver runs through her.

Those words had touched the very depths of her heart even when her mind was shouting she shouldn't take them seriously.

But what if Killian could really love her? Even when she's so screwed up, could he truly, honestly fall in love with her?

And she with him?

Her lips pull into a faint smile – and when she realizes this treacherous movement of her body, she presses her mouth into a somber, thin line.

She really can't deny it; he drives her absolutely crazy.

She needs to stay away from him, at least until she figures out what she wants exactly and if Killian was really being truthful. He obviously thinks he is, because otherwise he would have stopped with the constant teasing and flirting. Emma is sure of it, because when she told him about her past relationships she could see the understanding in his eyes. And if Killian didn't mean what he said, then he would have let her go, because that is who he is – honorable and sincere. Emma knows he doesn't intend to hurt her.

But what if he only feels what he claims to feel because she's rejecting him?

It seems it's always her downfall. No matter how cold she tries to be, men still want to be with her. When she eventually gives in to them and agrees on a few dates, soon they realize they can't change her stubborn and sarcastic attitude and suddenly they don't find her so interesting anymore.

What would it take for Killian to realize how messed up she is?

She puts her cigarette out with a sigh and walks out of the kitchen. She hears Killian turning off the water and his cheerful whistling reaches her ears. A hesitant smile tugs at her lips. Does he even sing while bathing?

Why the hell is she so curious about his habits? Does it matter if he does it or not?

And what if she does give him a chance? What if she didn't try to refuse him so stubbornly? Would he even want her then? Or would he realize that, in fact, she's not as intriguing as he now thinks she is?

She's unable to make a decision.

As she sits down in one of the armchairs, her rapidly swirling thoughts just confusing her even more. She hates feeling like this. And hates the fear that spreads through her body like a carelessly knocked over bottle of ink on an empty, white paper – dark and unstoppable.

She doesn't know how long she sits there, lost in her own thoughts, when she hears the opening of the bathroom door. Her body immediately tenses, her heart speeding up. When Killian steps into the living room offhandedly, clad in only a towel, her eyes widen, and even though she very much wants to look elsewhere, the view of his broad and muscular chest makes her mind go completely blank, captivating her.

She wants to touch him, wants to ruffle the soft dark hairs adorning his upper body, wants him to tense under her touch, and see if that happy trail that disappears under the towel…

"You know, Swan, I've been thinking."

Emma quickly averts her gaze and looks into his eyes. He watches her with amusement, placing his hands casually on his hips. She can feel her cheeks flush with redness.

 _Son of a bitch._

He knows exactly what he's doing.

"Imagine what it would be like," he continues smoothly, "if we ever get married and our families become one. We would be almost as big as a football team and Ruth would barely manage to keep us all fed when we visit her on weekends. And people would get all confused over who is whose sibling or spouse and the neighbors would think Ruth opened up an orphanage for adults." He grins at her, the smile almost cracking his face open and she's almost certain he's drunk.

Or was he always such a dork?

She doesn't even know what perplexes her the most; the fact that she was so openly ogling his body or that he is talking about marriage in such a playful manner.

"You know, Killian," her voice is quiet and cautious, "I think we would both benefit if you just stopped thinking."

He gives her a lazy smile, lowers his arms and steps closer to her. Emma doesn't even notice how her body presses into the armchair more firmly.

"Now, Swan, I doubt you mean that seriously," he notes in a deep and inviting tone and takes another step toward her.

"You're right, I don't," she back-pedals quickly and in a frightfully thin voice.

He takes one more step with a very suggestive smile playing on his lips – their legs are almost touching – and leans on either side of the armchair's elbow rest, towering above her. Their proximity is rendering her immobile – it's like they suddenly fell out of space and time and it's just the two of them in the whole damn universe.

She can scarcely get air into her lungs. His scent suddenly hits her, fresh and sweet. For some reason, it reminds her of soft green summers.

He leans even closer to her and she gets lost in his ocean blue gaze, the desire looming in the very depths of his eyes is scorching through her veins.

She wants him to kiss her. She wants to feel his taste, his touch again, to fall prey to the passion between them, because then there are no thoughts, no uncertainty, no fears…

Just Killian, and the fact that she wants him. And only him.

The moment is interrupted by a sharp melody, causing a tremor to shoot through her body.

"Killian, your phone is ringing," she breathes. "I think it's Liam.

"I don't care," he replies in a hoarse tone and doesn't move away from her.

Emma only watches him, taking in this incredible man who scares her like no one else, whose proximity floods her with such heat that it's almost unbearable – and yet, she's still grateful that his phone won't stop ringing.

"He's here to pick us up," she manages to force out the words. "You need to get dressed. Now!"

Killian sighs deeply, a lost sound, blurred with surrender, and places a quick and soft kiss on her forehead, and as if nothing has happened, he turns to the coffee table and picks up the device. He exchanges a few words with his brother, but Emma doesn't pay attention to it. She feels like every inch of her has melted into a pile of goo.

How is Killian able to do that to her with merely his presence and a simple touch?

It's only now that she realizes that her fingers are clutching the armchair so tightly that they're almost white. She has to force herself to loosen her grip.

Meanwhile, Killian disappears into the bathroom with some clothes in his hand and she's grateful he decided not to dress in front of her. In her current state, she wouldn't have survived the sight and she's sure that her restrained desire would have set her on fire.

She hears as he breaks into a melody again, the same one he was whistling not long ago. Now, if it's possible, he sounds even more cheerful than before.

It's ridiculous how she can't seem to resist him, and it is even more ridiculous that he's perfectly aware of that.

Where would this thing between them lead?

When he emerges from the bathroom again, she stands up wearily, deliberately not looking at him. She walks into the bedroom to get the drenched book, places it in a plastic bag she found in the kitchen and marches to the front door with determined steps. She puts her boots and coat on, throws her purse on her shoulder and tries to shove the book in it (but considering how small her damned bag is, it's not an easy task). When she's done, she waits for him with bowed head.

And although she feels his intense gaze on her, she doesn't look up. He, too, pulls his shoes and coat on and opens the door for her. She doesn't wait for him to lock up, just goes straight to the elevator. She hears him whistling again and he doesn't stop with his stupid newly acquired quirk when he walks next to her, _oh no_. As they enter the elevator, he continues even more enthusiastically.

"Could you just stop with this stupid whistling?" she snaps.

"Sorry, love. It's the happiness." He shrugs and looks at her sideways. "Is it bothering you?"

"Yes," she growls. "What is it anyway?"

"Was my performance that poor?" He glances at her with feigned consternation.

Emma holds back a smile – she loves when Killian is being silly. "It was pretty lame," she says in a deliberately indifferent tone, playing along.

The corners of his mouth curve upward. " _When the beating of your heart_ …" he sings quietly, and even though she heard him sing not long ago, a shiver still runs down her spine from his voice, deep, smoky and beautiful. " _Echoes the beating of the drums. There is a life about to start, when tomorrow comes_ ," he finishes but adds: "Do you seriously not know what it is?"

"Nope," she whispers.

She feels like every ounce of strength she had managed to gain has left her body. She could listen to him singing for hours. She already knows how velvety and lulling his voice is, but it still amazes her how much it affects her.

She lifts her eyes to him and he looks back at her warmly, making the elevator feel too small again.

" _Les Misérables._ You haven't seen the film?"

"You're aware that there are at least dozens of adaptations out there, right?" she quips. "I saw the one where Liam Neeson played Jean Valjean and I've always wanted to read the book but it's pretty long."

He flashes her an amused grin. "I was talking about the musical, love. Hugh Jackman, Russell Crowe. Doesn't it ring a bell?"

"Not really."

His smile widens even more and a mischievous glint appears in his eyes. "That's a rather serious flaw, then. We need to remedy it. Tonight?"

"Absolutely not," she retorts hurriedly and when she glances at Killian, she blushes.

She can't help but think about all the things that could happen during a movie night.

"I was only thinking about watching the film together. What _did_ you have in mind, Swan?" He gives her a shit-eating grin and Emma is sure her face looks like a tomato.

The elevator arrives at the ground floor with a jolt and she thanks her lucky stars because she can dodge his question. She all but flees from the tiny cabin, and without waiting for him, she crosses the small lobby and exits the building. The cold outside engulfs her in a greedy embrace, which feels unusually good now, for it certainly cools down her heated skin.

"Liam is parked on the side of the curb," Killian notes behind her back.

Emma doesn't reply, just strolls off in the direction he mentioned. When she catches sight of the older Jones' car, she quickens her pace, trying not to think about how many ways she can strangle the younger Jones.

As she opens the door to the back seat she tries her hardest to smother the anger inside her.

"Hey," she greets him, her voice sounding like the embodiment of peace as she settles in the back.

"Hello, brother," Killian addresses his brother in a cheerful tone as he also gets in the car.

Liam first looks at her, then at his brother. His gaze, as usual, is serious, but this time a tiny bit of curiosity is showing in those dark blue eyes.

 _Or maybe I'm starting to get paranoid,_ she concludes to herself in a mocking tone.

"Hi, guys!" Liam responds gently and his eyes still thoughtfully roam between the two of them. "You know, my darling fiancée was out of the bed rather early this morning and very eagerly woke me up with the fact that you two spent the night together. Not that I couldn't live without that piece of information."

She's going to kill Mary-Margaret for telling it to Killian's future sister-in-law. And then strangle the blonde for blabbing it to her fiancé.

"Nothing happened!" Emma protests vehemently, but when Liam raises one of his eyebrows at her she knows she's busted.

She's still not used to how Killian's brother always seems to know when someone is lying. Maybe that's why he's such a goddamn great detective at David's precinct.

"So, something did happen," he gathers and his eyes are glistening brightly. This is when the two brothers resemble each other the most – when their faces are lit with mirth.

Killian lets out a quiet and hearty chuckle and turns back to look at her. "You know, Swan, the best tactic against my dear brother is if you don't say anything. Except, of course, if you want him to know the truth."

"For god's sakes, we didn't have sex," she bursts out.

"Hmm, okay." Liam tilts his head to the side and glances thoughtfully at his brother. "Then what _did_ you do?"

Emma folds her arms across her chest, her jaw clenched defiantly. Hell will freeze over first before she speaks another word to these idiots. She would really like to wipe that all-knowing grin off of Killian's face, though.

To her luck, Killian doesn't say anything either, and Liam is still searching his brother's face with narrowed eyes.

After a moment, he starts speaking in a low and stern tone. "If you hurt her, Elsa will kill you. She really likes Emma, so if you're not serious about it then leave her alone," he notes, and it shocks Emma how harsh and serious he sounds.

It's times like these when she remembers that Liam practically raised Killian, and he's the only father figure the younger Jones had.

And also, she realizes, this is why it would be a horrible idea if they start dating. Nothing's even happened so far (well, at least, nothing that their families know of), and one of their friends already feels like they have to be protective over her, which is not exactly a bad feeling, but…What if they really hurt one another? How would their families handle it? How big of a break would it cause?

She's already opening her mouth to save Killian from answering, but he precedes her. "I'm very serious, brother," he declares and looks deeply into Liam's eyes.

For a few seconds Liam scans his brother's face intently, then his lips pull into a smile. "Elsa will be happy, then."

Emma throws a wide-eyed glance at Liam. Does it mean that Killian is, down to his very core, really, absolutely honest about his feelings?

"So, Elsa is on my side," Killian states proudly and looks suggestively at her.

She emits a helpless groan and leans back on the seat. This is when she curses her Bug the most for deciding to die on her and have its resurrection cost more than she can afford right now.

She throws a cold glance, as icy as she can manage, at Liam in the rearview mirror. "Can we go now?"

"You aren't going to have an easy job, brother," Liam notes, peering at Killian with a lopsided smile.

"Worth it," he mumbles.

Liam's smile widens as he starts the car.

Emma fastens her seatbelt, leans her head back, and closes her eyes, trying her hardest to pretend that she's not present.

˘ . . . ° . . . ˘

As Liam parks in front of the Nolan house, Killian gets out with a happy smile still playing on his lips. Showing off his good manners, he opens the door for Emma, even though he's very well aware of how she will react. It will certainly anger her, but he can't help himself. When she's all riled up, it's like the singing of a siren, or the taste of ambrosia for mere mortals. She's bloody brilliant, no matter her emotional state, but when she's furious, she's letting herself truly live and not hiding behind a carefully crafted mask. That's when she's brutally honest.

And that's why Killian so loves to see her in that state.

Which is, perhaps, a bit evil, but maybe this way he can stop her from shutting herself away again and again. If she sees she can't chase him away, no matter how hateful she tries to be, maybe then she will finally believe him when he says he wants to be by her side.

"I'm a big girl, you know? I can open my own doors," she notes sharply.

Killian grins at her response. Aye, that's exactly the reaction he was expecting.

"Still a gentleman, love, as always," he winks at her and she flashes her eyes at him.

He can't decide if her gaze is supposed to be biting or playful, or perhaps it's a bit of both.

"I would question the 'always' part." She furrows her brow and pouts and Killian finds her expression incredibly adorable.

Her eyes spark with playfulness and Killian would very much like to break into a happy dance. During their ride, it seemed she put up a shield again, or rather she just shook off her fears and insecurities. Maybe she decided to give him a chance? He very much wishes it to be the case, but he would be a fool to hope for such a quick victory.

As she walks past him with her chin held high, he feels this is her way of protecting herself – with jest and coldness.

Clearly, she's forgetting that it only fascinates him further.

He closes the door lightly and waits for Liam to lock the car before entering the house. When they step inside, Emma has already taken off her coat and shoes. She's still mind-blowingly beautiful in that blue dress of hers and he lets his eyes run appreciatively over the length of her body.

She throws him an annoyed glance and walks into the living room. Killian follows her with Liam on his heels.

"What are you watching?" Killian asks, halting his steps as his eyes fall on the television displaying a forest.

The three people on the couch – Elsa, David and Mary Margaret – turn to look at him simultaneously. " _Robin Hood_ ," his future sister-in-law answers.

"Friar Tuck is the best!" David grins and holds up a bottle of beer. " _This is grain, which any fool can eat, but for which God intended a more divine  
means of consumption_."

The boys let out a laugh.

"I had a huge crush on Kevin Costner when I was a teenager," Emma notes as she plops down on one of the armchairs, raising a challenging eyebrow at Killian.

"Oh, really? I think we look much alike, don't you think, love?" he smirks at her.

She eyes him up and down, and even though she tries to look indifferent, her gaze still holds what he assumes is desire.

Killian grins and Emma averts her eyes quickly, a faint blush appearing on her soft cheeks.

"Well, well…" David notes quietly.

Emma throws an annoyed glance first at her brother, and then at Mary-Margaret, whose smile is so big that it has to hurt.

"Stop looking at me like that, I only slept at his place. Nothing happened!" she snaps stubbornly.

David and Mary Margaret glance at each other but neither of them say anything.

Killian steps beside Emma and leaning close to her he whispers, "I hope you know we can cross out the _'No lying…'_ part on your list."

The blush on her face takes on a deeper shade.

"Yeah, nothing. Likely story," David narrows his eyes. "That's why you look like you've got a sunburn."

"David!" she snaps at her brother.

Isn't he supposed to give Killian an overprotective brother speech instead of teasing her?

"You look so relaxed, Emma, so sate…I mean satisfied."

Her whole body tenses.

"David, if you don't shut up right this second I'm gonna tell Ruth how many times you and Mary Margaret had sex during our Christmas celebration here. I don't think she would appreciate knowing that the reason you excused yourselves from dinner early wasn't because you were tired but because you couldn't keep it in your pants."

Killian only smiles to himself when he sees Mary Margaret go white as a sheet. Nobody is stupid in their families; it was quite clear where these two snuck off to from time to time.

"You're a monster," David grumbles, sounding a lot like a kid whose favorite toy was just taken away. "You ruin my fun."

"I know," Emma smiles triumphantly.

Killian straightens and lets out a hearty laugh, only stopping when Emma speaks up again in a more serious tone. "Mary Margaret, we need to talk."

He's surprised how fast her mood had changed.

"I don't think-" the brunette starts.

"In the kitchen. Now," Emma interrupts her and practically jumps from the armchair, looking impatiently at Mary Margaret.

The Lady Blanchard just sighs resignedly and gets up from the couch, walking past Emma with a pout.

Killian suddenly understands why Emma wants to talk to her.

He just didn't know it was such a big deal to Emma, too. The fact that she told Mary Margaret about spending the night at his place tells him that it wasn't just an insignificant event to her. For some reason, she felt the need to share it with someone.

"Wait, I want to hear this conversation, too." He hurries after them, but they're already in the middle of an argument.

"Why the fuck did you tell them about last night?" Emma fumes.

"Look, Emma-" Mary Margaret starts to say in a calm voice, but Emma's having none of it.

"Nothing happened, okay? Why do you all act like it's such a big deal?" She throws her hands up in exasperation.

"I didn't think it would upset you this much. And something tells me there's a particular reason behind it." Killian raises his eyebrow at her implication and Emma huffs angrily. "But I'm sorry if it hurt you," she smiles understandingly at Emma.

"I don't mind that you told them. You're just preparing them for the inevitable," Killian speaks up from behind Emma and he grins when she jumps at his presence, winking at her when she turns to him with blazing eyes.

"Of course you don't mind. Because you can just keep toying with me, huh?" she growls.

Killian blinks in shock. Is this what she thinks of him? That he's only toying with her? Or is it just the anger speaking?

He can't quite hide the hurt in his eyes, even if he wants to.

"I'm going to change," she whispers and averts her eyes, but not before he can detect a slight regret in them.

He feels they must continue this conversation and wants to get through her thick and beautiful head that it's not just a game to him.

He starts following her.

"What are you doing?" She halts her steps and turns back to him when she realizes he's right behind her.

"I'm going with you," he states.

This time his voice doesn't hold a light and bantering edge.

"Why?"

"There are some books in your room that I wanted to borrow," he says without missing a beat, his tone is deliberately mocking, so she knows he's joking.

Emma rolls her eyes. "Killian, I'm changing my clothes," she informs him like she has some serious doubts about his intellectual ability.

"Aye, I know," he gives her a grin.

In that moment, his hurt simply flies away. He can't be mad at her for long. She's just afraid, and in the light of what she told him earlier, he can't really blame her.

"Alone," she stresses and walks away from him towards her old room.

"It's just a few books," he calls after her in amusement and goes after her.

When she steps into the room, with Killian hot on her heels, she suddenly turns around and looks straight into his eyes. "Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?" he asks innocently.

"Why don't you leave me alone?"

"Because I'm not just toying with you," his expression darkens, but then his lips pull into a faint smile, "and you're much too attractive when you're angry."

"Ugh," she huffs and rolls her eyes resignedly.

Killian chooses this moment to grab her waist and yank her close. He waits for just a second to see if she will pull away, but when she doesn't, he crashes his lips to hers hungrily.

 _Bloody hell._

How much has he had wanted to do this since his blasted phone started ringing earlier today?

He can't seem to get enough of her.

He presses his tongue to the seam of her lips, and at her grant of access, delves into her mouth.

He feels like he's walking on air. It's magic, he thinks, the way her lips connect with his. Her mouth is so warm, the caress of her lips softer than he remembered. He savors the taste and feel or her, the quickening of her breath matching his own.

He feels her arms reach up and tangle around his neck, her fingers playing with the ends of his hair.

A kiss like this is a beginning, a promise of much more to come.

A smile grows on his face and with great effort, he pulls away, but just enough to look her in the eye. "You know, Swan, if I seal your mouth with mine, we understand each other quite well," he notes in a hoarse voice filled with longing, and before she can answer, he draws her to him once more, demonstrating his statement.

She doesn't protest or pull away, but instead, her hands find the lapels of his jacket, deepening their kiss, and there's no space now between their bodies. It's as if they are melting into each other.

His heart fills with warmth at her reaction and he tightens his grip on her waist affectionately.

His hand starts to slip further down her body and he gives her round ass a firm squeeze. Emma stands on her tiptoes and presses her body flush against his chest.

The heat is intense, wiping out his common sense, and all Killian knows for sure is that he wants to hold Emma in his arms. To cherish and love her…

"Oh, I'm so sorry!"

An anxious voice interrupts them suddenly.

Emma pulls away from him with a dazed expression and flushed face. He doesn't let her go far, though.

"Just Liam says that…" Killian is quite amused by his future sister-in-law's bewilderment. "You know what, never mind," Elsa smiles at them. "Umm, I didn't want to interrupt anything, so don't stop on my account." She waves at them and disappears as quickly as she arrived.

Killian glances after her with mirth dancing in his eyes, but when he looks at Emma, his expression darkens.

"She now thinks that we…" she stammers.

"Kissed," he finishes for her and watches her, his body tense.

She looks quite pale frightened, shadows looming in her green eyes, washing away the desire and passion.

"Yes," she breathes, her tone is laced with faint desperation. "And by the time we get back down there, everyone will know."

"And why is that a problem?" he asks guardedly and softly.

"Tell me, Killian, did you even get anything from what I told you earlier?" she retorts and pulls away from him.

She only takes one step back, but a sense of loss is cutting through his heart.

"Yes," he answers seriously.

"So what did I say, exactly?" she raises her eyebrow in question.

"That you want me too. But you're afraid. I understand that. But you don't have to be afraid of me, Swan."

He steps closer because the distance she created is unbearable – it grips at his chest, squeezes it tightly and it's simply terribly agonizing. He wants to touch her, kiss her…

"You say that now, but…" she shakes her head, not finishing her sentence.

He gently caresses down her cheek. He can feel her tremble. "I will prove it to you," he states determinedly.

"How?" she grumbles brokenly. "You'll attack me with kisses every single damn time?"

"I'm not sure that's a bad idea, but no," he gives her a soft smile, and his thumb finds the corner of her lips. "This was an exception. I couldn't help myself."

Emma turns her head away.

Killian lowers his arm helplessly.

"Now, will you let me change?" she asks quietly and he can hear the pain in her voice.

In this moment, the only thing he wants to do is gather her in his arms and tell her that everything is going to be fine.

But he can't do that now.

"Aye," he nods, giving her a sad smile.

He turns towards the door but he's unable to take a step forward. He can't leave her like this, so he turns back.

She still stands with her head twisted to the side, her forehead wrinkled from overthinking, he assumes. His heart sinks, but he tries to sound light. "I hope you know we can cross out the part on your list where you said you won't run away."

"What do you mean?" she finally glances at him.

"You want me just as much as I want you. We could try. But instead, you choose to run from it."

"Are you blackmailing me now?" her eyes narrow.

"I learned it from you," he gives her a smile.

Emma watches him, frozen on the spot. The pain in her eyes evaporates slowly and something else takes over its place. But Killian has no idea what it is.

"Okay," she says suddenly and it's as if she's fighting to repress a smile.

"Okay what?" he blinks at her, having no clue what she means.

"I will think about…us," she answers thoughtfully. "But until then, you restrain yourself."

"Would you really do that?"

"Yes," she nods, and now a smile is playing on her lips.

She's looking at him as if this decision brings as much relief to her as it does to him. Maybe that is really the case – it must be hard to fight with your desires all the time.

"But truly?" he asks suspiciously.

"Yes." She looks deep into his eyes.

His heart starts to beat frantically in his chest, inextinguishable fire running through his body, and suddenly, the distance between them is too much, too big again.

With two strides he's in front of her again, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her into a kiss that makes both of them tremble.

Unbelievable.

Absolutely bloody fantastic.

Emma eagerly returns the kiss.

It's an intoxicating feeling, sweet and agonizing.

He breaks the kiss a few moments later, even though every inch of him is protesting. He's gasping for air as he turns away from her and hurries out of the room. This is not the right time or place for them to continue this. But the time will come. It has to…

"Oh, and Swan?" he halts his steps just outside the door, glancing back at her over his shoulder. "Four."

* * *

 _ **Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think :)**_

 _ **Until next time**_

 _ **xx**_


	8. Chapter 8

_**Happy Tuesday!**_

 _ **First, THANK YOU so much for the reviews, favs and follows, I see and appreciate every one of you who leave some kind of feedback for me *HUGS :)**_

 _ **Second, sorry for the waiting, I had a crazy two weeks and this craziness is still far from over *sigh. Uni life is hard, especially when it's your last year and when you're surrounded by incompetent teachers *angry sigh. But I promise my frustration won't come between me and my writing, I have every intention of finishing this story. It kind of became my baby and an escape from real life. So here's a brand new chapter for you lovely readers, hope you enjoy it! And please let me know what you think, it helps with my muse big time! :)**_

 _ **(tumblr acc: mycaptainswanjones)**_

* * *

 **Chapter 8**

Emma smiles at Killian's remark (this man is taking this bet way too seriously, keeping tabs on every single curse leaving her mouth) and closes the door behind him, leaning her back against it. Her legs are shaking and her heart is beating way too fast. She's kissed a lot of men in her life so far, but none of them affected her as much as Killian. She has never felt this sweet numbness and euphoria running through her entire body.

It was so much easier when Killian didn't know that she was also attracted to him.

She steps away from the door and, with mechanical movements, peels off her dress, pulls on clean underwear, jeans, and a black top.

The jeans are her favorite ones – a slim-leg cut, a bit ripped on the front and from the knee down, there are black written lines done by fabric markers. They are wild and rebellious and Emma absolutely loves them.

When she's done dressing, she sits down on her old bed, scoots back until she reaches the wall and pulls up her legs, wrapping her arms around her knees.

Her mind is a jumbled mess right now because of him, but it's not like she can do anything about it. With him, it's like her mask is slowly coming apart and she's just standing there before him with her soul bared completely open. But the most frightening thing is that Killian honestly likes what he sees.

He likes _her._

She doesn't scare him off, he doesn't find her troublesome and it absolutely stuns her.

But despite all of this, she's still afraid. For the first time, she can admit that it's not only their shared friends and families that are holding her back. Though it's a good reason, it's not the whole truth. For the last few weeks, it's only been a defense of some sort. She used it as a shield from feelings and from letting him get too close to her. It's dangerous to love someone, she knows, and yet, the contradiction of her whole existence is that she wants someone to love her, wants to have that safety a relationship can provide and wants to belong to someone. And it is exactly what Killian is offering her now.

And she wouldn't consider running away from it if the two most serious relationships she'd had were simple "we're dating and happy together" kinds of relationship.

But they weren't.

At first, everything was good and right, walking on cloud nine and all that crap, but too soon things turned ugly and the things had ended painfully. Emma questioned so many things, including herself. Since then, she's pretty terrible at trusting people and sometimes she even considers herself a coward because of it. She usually isn't the type of person who dwells on the past or the present. Most of the time she just plunges into life head-first and worries about the consequences later.

Shouldn't it be time for her to move on from what happened? She's punished herself enough now, hasn't she? Maybe she needs to start living again. Killian was right when he said that if she always runs away she would never give herself a chance to be happy.

He was right, and not only about the two of them.

Lately, she's even been running from herself and, to be completely honest, she isn't happy. It's time she finds herself again. Even if, in the meantime, she has become more uncertain and skittish. Maybe it's not completely wrong that she's like this. It's probably making her more cautious, which isn't necessarily a bad thing.

Her vision suddenly gets blurry and her eyes fill with tears of liberty and relief. She only now realizes how tense she had been in the last couple of weeks and how much she has annoyed herself with her constant pessimism, complaints, insecurities, and her complete lack of bravery when it came to do anything about it.

Her thoughts are interrupted by a knock on the door. She hastily wipes the tears from her cheeks.

"Come in," she calls out.

Mary Margaret steps into the room and quickly shuts the door behind her. She looks at Emma with that always present motherly concern of hers and takes a tentative step towards her. The brunette folds her arms across her chest and gives her a hesitant smile.

"I'm sorry about earlier, MM. Really," Emma apologizes quickly before Mary Margaret can say anything.

Relief shoots through the brunette's face. "It's okay," she smiles and shrugs. "I probably would have had the same reaction, if I were you."

Emma is no longer pissed off at her friend. Of course, it would've been nice to keep quiet about her and Killian's budding relationship a little more, but if it's out, then there's nothing she can do about it.

The moment her thoughts are filled with Killian again, she feels a strange tickle inside her stomach, but she tries her hardest to ignore it.

 _Stupid butterflies._

"You know, Emma, Killian is a good guy. I mean, really. I'm probably a bit biased, I've known him for quite some time now and he's best friends with my future husband," she chuckles and continues, "But, believe me when I say I've never seen him like this. No one, since I've known him, managed to make him smile this much or make him so…enthusiastic." Her face turns thoughtful all of a sudden. "I think he's very serious about you."

"Thank you."

"Of course." She gives Emma a warm smile. "You won't stay holed up in here all day, right?"

"Of course not," languidly, Emma lets out a laugh.

She doesn't move from her spot though, and Mary Margaret – as if understanding she needs some more time – nods and leaves Emma alone without adding anything further.

Mary Margaret thinks Killian is good for her, and not that Emma thinks he isn't, but David's future wife is practically a living, breathing moral compass. She can't help but believe her that they're goodf for each other.

Killian…

As Emma thinks of him, a faint smile starts playing on her lips. Quiet moments and soft words are swirling in her head of Killian as he glances at her with challenge and playfulness in his blue eyes, as he smiles at her, as he laughs…

As he says he wants her…

Those damn butterflies are wreaking havoc in her stomach again, and she almost feels dizzy.

What should she do?

Of course, this question is quite rhetorical and completely unnecessary, she knows that. In truth, she's not even sure there was a choice to make in the first place, because the answer is so clear and obvious now.

She wants to be with him and that's it. She wants to try. She wants to give the two of them a chance. Because maybe it will work, maybe it will be right and maybe they could be happy…

But then why is she still afraid? Why does this fear keep making her question everything?

And why the fuck is she crying again?

She's not one for bawling her eyes out at every single thing. It's usually anger that takes over her if something works her up. Will she always be like this now? A sobbing mess at the drop of an emotional hat?

She cringes at the thought.

She doesn't want to be like that, and she will do everything to prevent it. She won't let it take hold of her this time.

Her tears are still spilling from her eyes – though she tries to keep them at bay – but she's quite unsuccessful in that task.

What the hell has gotten into her?

There's a knock on the door again. Hurriedly, she wipes her face but to no avail, fresh tears are adorning her cheeks again.

"It's open!" she shouts, her voice less strong and lively than before.

Her heart skips a beat when Killian slips through the door. He's grinning, right until the moment his eyes fall on her and his expression darkens, a frown appearing on his handsome face.

"Swan? Are you crying because of me?" His voice is colored with deep concern.

"No," she replies stubbornly, a tight smile pulling at the corners of her lips.

She's not exactly lying. She doesn't really know why she is weeping like a little baby.

"Then what is it, love?" He steps closer to her.

"I'm not crying," she states, then lets out a humorless laugh at her childish rebuttal.

"You know, Swan, denying something that is so clearly obvious is quite foolish," he notes. His voice is full of tenderness and worry and it warms her heart and body in all the right places.

"I'm crying because I'm confused and…I'm trying to process these…fucking shitty emotions."

"That's two in only one sentence, so we are at six now," he says with a little grin on his lips, then his expression turns serious again. "Am I playing a part in your confusion?"

"Yes," she nods resignedly and watches him through her tears as he takes another step closer.

He comes to a halt when his knees hit the side of her bed. He studies her for the briefest of moments before he gathers her in his arms, settling on the bed beside her.

His strong arms tighten around her slender form. "All right, then," he murmurs into her ear. "Let it out, Swan."

Emma doesn't even know if she's still crying because she lets out a laugh as tears are still pouring from her eyes and Killian is only hugging her closer.

It's good. It's simple.

Just like the other night.

It's calming and kind of feels like home.

She goes on for another minute, then her tears stop.

Like a child, she snuggles close to him, inhales his familiar scent, listens to his steady heartbeat, and doesn't say anything for a while.

"Did Mary Margaret tell you about me?" She asks finally in a soft tone.

She didn't think Killian would come back after their last conversation. He must have had a good reason to do so.

"She said you looked a little broken. She's only worried," he defends David's fiancée.

"I'm not mad at her."

"Then you don't mind me being here?" Emma can sense the smile in his voice.

"I didn't say that," she replies, all the while burrowing further into his chest.

"But you thought about it?" he inquires with voice shaking with laughter.

Emma doesn't answer.

She doesn't know why – maybe she still needs to process the fact that Killian is here and she wants him to be here.

As if understanding her silence, he doesn't question her further.

"While on the subject, after your brother, she threatened me too," he informs her. "She said if I ever hurt you, she will come after my most treasured body parts. She didn't look like she was joking."

"She's not one for jokes," she chuckles.

"She can be quite scary sometimes. And to think I even flirted with her once…"

"Are you serious?" Emma knows it's stupid, but a tiny spark of jealousy shoots through her and she pulls away from him just a little.

"Aye, when we first met at the bar. I didn't know she was Dave's beloved and she looked rather lonely sitting alone while waiting for him," he shrugs and stubbornly pulls her back to him. "She's a lovely lass, but you are the most stunning creature I have ever laid eyes on. I would have flirted with you, but I didn't know you at the time. And when I first saw you, it was like the world had stopped spinning."

Her heart starts beating furiously at his words and the air gets stuck in her lungs for a moment. She only waits for a few seconds, just until the sweet dizziness subsides in her body, before she begins speaking in a low but determined voice, "You know, Killian, I think I want to try."

˘ . . . °. . . ˘

Killian thinks his chest will burst with happiness. Emma is not looking at him when she whispers the words against his shirt-covered skin, but he still believes what she's saying is true and it simultaneously floods him with joy and astonishment.

"I hope it wasn't the reason you were crying," his lips pull into a faint smile.

Even though he can't see it, he has a suspicion she's smiling too. He really wishes to look into her eyes; he wants to know what she's feeling right now. His hand falls to her waist from her back, and with a gentle pressure against her spine, he invites her to turn to him. She complies with his silent request, she throws her legs around his waist and meets his eyes.

Killian, pushing his luck, places his hand on her arse.

"I'm afraid," she whispers.

"Would it help if I said me too?" He glances at her earnestly.

"Really?" Her eyes widen.

Killian nods. "I'm afraid you'll change your mind. That you will run away. That you won't trust me. That…you…"

"What?" she encourages when he falls silent.

The air between them is disturbed by a deep sigh from Killian. He knows it's time for him to be honest with her, as she was with him when she told him about her upbringing.

It's time he opened up to her.

Emma deserves that. And more.

"That as soon as we sleep together you won't want me anymore. Like nobody did before," he says dejectedly.

Emma tilts her head to the side. "Are you that bad in the sack?" she teases in a playful tone.

Killian gives her a smile. He appreciates that she's trying to lighten the mood and he wonders if it was instinctive or she just felt that he needed some cheering up.

"No, or at least there weren't any complaints," he smirks.

"Then…" She falls silent in a questioning tone.

He lets out another deep sigh.

He's never talked about this with anyone because it all seems so foolish. But now he wants to tell her and it scares him a little. When did she get so close to him? Would he share every secret of his with her? But once this question appears in his mind, the answer immediately follows: yes, he would. Without an ounce of hesitation.

"I was in college and madly in love with a classmate of mine," he begins hesitantly. "In truth, I had been in love with her for a while by that time. We went to the same high school, you see. Then we started dating and it seemed she reciprocated my affections. It was a young love but still love in its own way. We slept together, of course, it was the first for both of us. After that, our relationship changed. We made love plenty of times, but something was missing. Then she broke up with me. Said I was very kind and she liked being with me, but she longed for something else. I was miserable after that."

Killian knows that perhaps his storytelling must sound incoherent and erratic, but it's not easy to tell her everything. Not because he's ashamed, but because he doesn't know how to phrase it so she could understand the essence of his fear.

"Afterwards, women started practically lining up before me and I wasn't opposed to it. I was still picking up the pieces after Milah left, and the notion that other women wanted me gave me the confidence to believe that maybe I wasn't such a failure after all. I took a lot of them to my bed, but in truth, I always wondered what they saw in me. I was thinking that word got out that I was good in bed. I never minded the attention though. I could barely call myself a man and what young lad wouldn't want a lot of sex?" He gave her a smile.

The corners of her mouth slide upwards, her smile faint and tight. But Killian can see that she wants to hear the rest of his pitiful story.

"And then I moved to the States and finished my last year of college here. I started working in a recording studio and was there for a few months before I decided I wanted to have a go at live music. The women here in this country are much bolder and, dare I say, unbridled. I never once met with resistance when it came to bedding a lass. In truth…" He glances down at her with a sheepish expression, "…and don't put me down as egotistical or presumptuous, but some of them essentially offered themselves to me. Then I met a girl who I fancied quite a bit. We had sex. But she didn't want more than that. When I asked her why, she said I was a man who was easy on the eyes and good in bed, but I wasn't fit for more. I like having sex, aye, I was with many women, I admit, but I couldn't understand why she thought I wasn't good enough for more."

He flashes a worried look at Emma, but she only reacts with a simple nod, gesturing for him to go on.

"I really liked that lass, so I felt a wee bit crushed. I believed if I proved to her that I wouldn't sleep with just anyone, that I could restrain myself, then she would change her mind. You know, Swan, I've always been like this. My brother was always the one with more self-control, he is more stoic and reserved than meself. But I wasn't always goofing around. I enjoy deep and serious conversations, but I'm aware that no one would assume that of me at present. In truth, this…ah, well the fact that I always try to make a joke out of most things, is a defense of sorts. It worked to discourage women who only wanted me in their beds. If I appeared frivolous, they didn't take me seriously and therefore no one was hurt when I eventually rejected them. It proved to be an excellent tactic. But still, she didn't want anything to do with me, even though I'd proved I could very well be in a monogamous relationship if I wanted. I realized that when she got together with one of the musicians. From there on – out of curiosity – I asked most of the women I slept with if they would plan long-term with me. None of them said yes. It's like a bloody curse. I can have almost any woman, but none of them would ever give me their hearts."

Emma watches him with an unreadable expression, and Killian terribly wishes to know what thoughts are swimming in that lovely head of hers.

"You know," he continues, "Until now, it didn't bother me that much. It felt good to be wanted and be the center of their attention. It was even better that if I didn't want more than one night, there were no hurt feelings after that. But now I'm a wee bit worried."

They stare at each other for a while. Killian doesn't say anything more. He doesn't know if what he told her was even comprehensible. He doesn't know if Emma could glean any understanding from it. He really never told this to anyone because, on reflection, it does sound like gibberish and maybe it's all in his head. He just can't shake the thought that something must be wrong with him if no lass ever saw him fit for a serious relationship.

"So you're afraid that as soon as we sleep together I will leave you?" she asks carefully.

Killian looks into her green eyes, but he finds no judgment or doubt in them, only genuine curiosity. "A little, aye. But I trust it won't be the case this time because everything is different with you."

"You know, it was so much easier when I only knew about my own fears," she notes with a pout.

"But now we can face all of our fears together," he whispers and when Emma gives him a kind and warm smile instead of disagreeing with his words, his heart speeds up.

"Stop looking at me like that!" she says sharply.

"Like what?" he asks, puzzled.

"With your _'Look out, Swan, I'm going to kiss the hell out of you'_ look." He lets out a chuckle at her attempt at trying to mimic his voice and accent, and her eyes narrow.

"Do I really have a look like that?" He's still laughing and can't seem to stop.

He feels absolutely carefree, like he's floating amongst soft, white clouds. A bright and featherlike feeling invades his senses and body, and he suspects this is what it feels like to be happy.

"Yes, definitely," she grumbles, but a barely noticeable smile is playing at the corners of her lips.

"It appears you and my expression understand each other quite well," he states and smiles at her broadly.

"I've been sitting in your lap for almost ten minutes and you managed to restrain yourself pretty well…until now," She throws him a threatening look.

"I'm not sure if you've noticed Swan, but I'm caressing your arse," he notes in a low voice like he's just told her a secret.

"Oh, and that's enough for you?" She raises one of her eyebrows challengingly.

"I like your humor." He grins.

"Really?" Her tone is skeptical.

"Aye."

"That's good, because it will hardly change."

"I don't want you to change, Swan."

She scoffs and he sees the uncertainty in her eyes.

"You don't believe me?" She shrugs and Killian lets out a sigh.

"I really like you, Swan. The sooner you accept that the better." His tone is matter-of-fact but gentle, and he places his index finger under her chin, lifting it slightly to make their eyes connect. Maybe if she sees the truth in his eyes and uses her superpower, she will start believing him.

 _Stubborn lass._

"You're unpredictably whimsical. One minute, you're a spitfire, the next an innocent child, and then cold and unattainable. But I like you, no matter which state you are in."

A faint blush appears on her cheeks and he thinks he's never seen anything so beautiful.

"So…are we doing this?" he asks, scratching a spot behind his ear.

Emma nods and his face lights up with a playful smile.

"And does this mean you agree to a movie night?"

"No," she responds fiercely.

Killian wasn't expecting a different answer. He sensed she would react like this, though he's curious about the reason for her turndown.

"Why not?"

"Because I think it would do us some good if we, um…cool off a bit."

"Cool off?" He almost lets out a laugh.

"Yes." Her tone is firm.

"Why?"

"Because it scares me how…fast we're going." Her cheeks, again, take on a lovely shade of pink.

"Fast?" he groans in disbelief.

"Well, what we did the other day…and after that…it's fast. Maybe we should…think things through?" she stutters anxiously.

"What's there to think about?" He glances at her suspiciously. "You already said yes."

Emma looks away and he sees something dark and heavy passing across her face.

"Maybe I just want to give you a chance to change your mind. You know, it's better now than later."

Killian watches her with bewilderment. "Do you have any idea, Swan, how awful it was for me until yesterday? From the moment I saw you, I wanted you with such passion that it's almost absurd. Then I had the chance to know you better and you bewitched me. And then I couldn't figure out what you were feeling or thinking. It almost killed me." She rolls her eyes at his dramatic words. "I would be a bloody fool if I backed out now. I haven't the slightest intention of turning my back on you, love." He shakes his head vehemently.

Emma watches him rigidly, and as their eyes lock, he feels that familiar and mind-boggling desire spring to life, sending sparks flying between them.

"No, Killian, you can't kiss me right now," she says quickly and climbs off him.

She rests her back against the headboard, but places her legs in his lap.

"Why not?" he asks sullenly, but he's glad he's not the only one consumed by this strange and inexplicable attraction.

"Because then I wouldn't be able to resist you and you could make me do anything," she answers openly.

"Really?" He can't hide his surprise.

Does his kiss really have such an effect on her?

"Don't act like you haven't noticed," she challenges. "You kiss me and I practically turn into goo. There, I said it." She makes a face.

"You know," he begins in a cheerful tone, "I love your self-irony, honesty, and even that charming little frown on your forehead."

"Really?"

How the bloody hell can still so much self-doubt fit in her? When will she start believing him?

"Yes, Swan, really." He looks deep into her eyes, willing his words to make this infuriatingly headstrong woman accept his affections.

An alluringly relaxed smile settles onto her face and she lowers her head shyly. He decides he likes Shy Emma too.

Amused, he strokes her denim-covered thighs and his gaze falls on his scarred hand, and old memories invade his mind.

After Milah left him, he let his anger and frustration get the better of him and he ventured to the docks, seeking out the one thing that could always calm him – the ocean. But if he hadn't been so blinded by his raging emotions, he would have noticed the approaching dark clouds and the growing intensity of the wind. Then he wouldn't have taken his ship out, and his hand wouldn't have gotten stuck between two heavy crates as the storm crashed his ship against the rocks near the shore.

His only luck was that he is an excellent swimmer, and that his brother came looking for him. His stupidity cost him his beloved ship and gave him limited movement in his hand, just enough that he can still play his guitar without much difficulty.

The only visible reminders are the angry marks on his hand and wrist, one of which almost runs to his elbow. He would be self-conscious in front of her, God knows he was at first, but after she let it slip that she doesn't find it the least bit hideous, but rather sexy, his confidence was renewed and he's learned to practically put it on display just to see her reaction.

She's watching him right now, her emerald eyes transfixed on his hand making soothing circles on the rough material.

And as he, too, looks back at her shapely legs, he suddenly recognizes the jeans she's wearing. She had this pair on a couple of times before, but he was never close enough to be able to read the black written lines. His gaze furtively runs along several quotes.

 _Somebody shot this swan in flight  
From water-hole to water-hole;  
He staggered on towards the night  
But could not reach his goal. [1]_

Usually, he appreciates any reference to this particular bird (mainly because it's her last name), but now a frown settles onto his face.

 _No mouth was mad your mouth to kiss,  
No bosom held you safe and warm,  
Poor little soul who came and cried  
And no one heard you in the storm. [2]_

He doesn't even notice it, but he's no longer stroking her leg.

 _I never wanted to be born. It was nothingness  
Who bore and suckled me; with her I started.  
So love me darkly. Love me cruelly. Love me  
like the one left behind by the departed. [3]_

His gaze jumps to another quote.

 _In all self-torture, in every song,  
I want to be loved, to belong.  
Belong to somebody,  
Belong to somebody. [4]_

Then to the next with agonizing curiosity and dread.

… _a savage orphan deep in your heart,  
Shattered pieces of her soul spill to the red tainted floor below. [5]_

There's not even a single happy line on her jeans?

 _Why did I choose this life of pain?  
Why do I live it still?  
Why drink the dregs, and then again  
The cup of sorrow fill? [6]_

"These jeans of yours are rather depressive," he notes with a grimace.

She only shrugs. "I was an angsty twenty-year-old. I'll make a pair of 'happy-jeans' just for your sake," she says in a teasing tone.

"Good." His frown is replaced by a smile.

"I was joking," she deadpans.

"I know, but I still want to take you up on that offer."

She only rolls her eyes and Killian turns his attention back to her jeans. As he starts caressing her leg again, he scans her handwriting over and over, a heavy and painful feeling settles deep in his heart and chest.

 _'Cause we don't want to see  
what is lurking  
Right behind the façade!_

"It's from _Jekyll and Hyde_ ," he states, voice full of wonder.

"Just because I haven't seen _Les Misérables_ doesn't mean I don't know other musicals."

"That's true."

He doesn't glance at her, his eyes continue to pursue other unread quotes. Then a sudden idea comes to his mind – and he thinks it's a fairly great idea – but he decides that for the time being, he should keep it to himself. He's unable to prevent a smile from forming on his lips though. How will his Swan react?

"What are you smile-" Her question is interrupted by an energetic knock on the door. "Open!" Emma shouts.

Mary Margaret enters the room, but her eyes are closed. "You guys aren't all tangled up in each other, right?" It's quite obvious she can barely contain her laughter.

"No, M&Ms, we aren't," Emma grumbles.

"If you use that name again, I'm going to call you Elmo," she retorts and glances at them with eyes glowing with glee.

"Elmo?" Killian raises his eyebrow and laughs when Emma flashes him an annoyed look.

"I hope you know you'll pay for this," she threatens as she turns back to Mary Margaret.

The brunette only shrugs. Amused, Killian watches the harmless banter between the two women.

"Dinner is ready," Mary Margaret announces and turning her back to them, she steps out of the room. Then she suddenly whirls around. "Oh and just so you know, everyone is rooting for you…and even if it doesn't work between the two of you, don't think we would love one of you less because of it," she says warmly.

"Are you guys talking about us behind our backs?" Emma asks with knitted brows.

"We would talk about you face to face, if you ever decide to emerge from your little hiding place," she retorts cheerfully.

"Thanks, but I'll pass," Emma replies sullenly and Killian wonders if there ever will be a day when he won't find this expression of hers adorable.

He knows the answer is no.

"That's what I figured." Mary Margaret smiles. "But you won't get away with it. You know how this family is. It's time you get used to it." This time, she really leaves them alone.

Killian waits until Emma turns her head back to him. "She knows you quite well."

"Well, she's been putting up with me for years now. And she's a pretty good judge of character," she shrugs.

"And she still loves you," he notes knowingly and she blushes at the way he's looking at her.

Killian lets his gaze tell her all the things he can't possibly form into words – the hope, the joy, the faith – and when he senses that Emma understands his message, he gently pats her legs.

"Come on, Swan, let's throw ourselves to the wolves."

"I'm scared to death," she groans, and this time he really can't decide if she's being serious or just joking.

"At least we're free from Will Scarlet and his dreadful innuendos," he says reassuringly and tugs playfully at the ends of her hair as they get up from the bed.

"The little joys of life," she remarks sarcastically.

Killian lets out a laugh and takes her hand in his, rejoicing in the fact that Emma doesn't pull away from his touch.

Not even when they enter the kitchen.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading!**

 _Poems I used for Emma's "depressive-jeans":_

[1] _Elegy For a Swan by Evan Jones_  
[2] _Child of Tears by John Shaw Neilson_  
[3] _Tilos csillagon/On a Forbidden Star by Pilinszky János_  
[4] _Szeretném, ha szeretnének/I want to be loved by Ady Endre_  
[5] _Mondom neked/Telling you by Pilinszky János_  
[6] _A Reverie by Louisa Lawson_

 _( **3** , **4** and **5** are Hungarian poets. If you love poetry, you should definitely check them out)._


	9. Chapter 9

_**Hi there, guys! It's been ages since my last update and I apologize for the big ass wait. May exams and assignments are finally done, so now I can focus on the fun things, which means *drum roll* NEW CHAPTERS! I hope you like this one, and stick with me till the end :)**_

 _ **Happy reading!**_

 _ **(tumbls acc: mycaptainswanjones)**_

* * *

 **Chapter 9**

As they enter the kitchen, it's as though everyone in the room freezes to the spot and all eyes are on the two of them. For the briefest of moments, Emma feels a sudden urge to pull her hand free from Killian's, but as she glances at his profile, that familiar itch to run flies away. She realizes she really likes holding his hand and having him close to her – she would rather suffer through their families' searching looks and undivided attention than to break their connection.

Five sets of eyes land on them with vivid curiosity. Liam is holding the plates, David and Mary Margaret the silverware, and Elsa and Ruth are standing behind the counter, arranging the different plates of dishes. Liam eyes them with kind interest and Ruth's expression is pure joy and, Emma thinks, hope.

It's how she always imagined a mother would look at her own daughter when she's proud and happy that her daughter found someone she can open her heart to.

She shakes her head.

This isn't really the right time to dwell on what that means.

If Killian and she weren't in the center of everyone's attention, she would definitely find the scene before them ridiculous. No one is saying a thing. The atmosphere in the kitchen is tense – it's as if everyone is holding their breath at the same time.

Emma shifts her weight from one foot to the other. Should she say something? Is that why no one is moving? But what could she say?

She looks at Killian hesitantly, but his unconcerned, blank expression as he watches the others is no help at all in her dilemma. How the hell is he so good at controlling his emotions?

She turns her attention back to the others and catches the moment David's eyes drop to their joined hands.

"Can I say 'well, well' now?" He breaks the silence with a cheeky smile and Emma lets out a sigh of relief.

She was half expecting him to go into full big brother mode on Killian, but then again, who else would he trust to not hurt her than his best friend?

"No," she retorts immediately, but her voice is more amused than angry.

That easy and carefree sentiment she felt when she told Killian she wanted to try still hasn't passed. It makes her thrilled and content. Even though she knows so many things could happen – momentarily she could care less about these doubts and fears. Right now it's just good to hold Killian's hand and look to the future with confidence.

Because maybe, everything will be different with Killian. Maybe everything will be alright.

"But I'm dying of curiosity for not knowing what is really going on with you two," he nags her, and it reminds Emma of a grumpy kid.

Emma's lips pull into a fake pout and she eyes him with pity. "What an awful death," she states with almost the same cheeky smile that played on David's lips a moment ago.

"Mine won't be the only corpse in the kitchen, then," he notes.

Emma looks around.

Everyone is watching their banter with ardent eyes, and as her gaze meets with theirs, she feels a thousand unspoken questions zigzagging through the air, hitting the walls as they are left unanswered.

She glances up at Killian, but he only shrugs. He's throwing the ball into her court, she knows, letting her decide and dictate the next step, and she likes him all the more for it.

The truth is, she doesn't know what she should say.

After all, everyone knows that she slept at his place the other night and probably that they were all over each other in her old room just minutes ago.

But if she doesn't say anything, they would just look at them with the same expression as now, and Emma would really like for them to move on from the fact that Killian and she are together.

"We're dating, okay?" the words leave her mouth without warning.

She doesn't know how to define their relationship status – which isn't really a relationship yet – even if she knows it will be. For the time being, they're just…getting to know each other. And what's that if not dating?

Her only answers are the questioning, unbelieving and "Do you really expect us to buy that?" looks from the others.

She shrugs her shoulders involuntarily. "We're just dating. End of story," she repeats with a slight tension in her voice, this time a little more uncertain. People can start their dating period with immediately covering third base (or at least a big part of it), right? And with kissing. Lots of kissing.

That doesn't mean they're suddenly in a relationship, right?

"I remember that. I mean, dating and all," Liam says with a grin as he finally moves.

The others, as if letting loose simultaneously, continue on with their respective tasks.

Relief rushes through her body. She doesn't even realize how hard she's been clutching Killian's hand until he squeezes it back gently. Then all of a sudden, he pulls her in front of him and envelopes her in his embrace. She leans back against his chest and places her hand on his arms.

It's strange, standing like this with him. It's _cozy_. And nobody looks at them now open-mouthed, which is good. Her heart beats a furious staccato against her ribcage by just being so close to him.

She's a little at a loss still: what they're doing now, standing in the middle of the kitchen in each other's arms and watching their families prepare the food like they've done it a million times before – it feels more than _'just dating'_. But the urge to pull away and put some distance between them doesn't come. After all, they only said they would try this thing between them. They never really clarified what it means exactly, so if they want to stand this way then they will damn well do it.

"Dating is exciting," Liam continues, that familiar grin still playing on his lips.

"I wouldn't exactly call that dating," David speaks up in a complaining tone, "that as an honorable member of the law you drag your girlfriend down to the basement to have a quickie."

"Well, that is indeed true. But I'll have you know I didn't have to drag her anywhere. She went quite willingly." Liam winks at his fiancée before giving David a proud expression.

"Basement dating," Elsa notes, bemused.

"Original," Mary Margaret remarks.

"Original," David chimes in, throwing her a smile.

"It's special, right, my dear?" Liam glances at Elsa with mischief and earns a happy, devoted smile as his answer. "Can you two show off something similar?"

She feels Killian's small chuckle vibrating against her back, and a soft smile tugs at Emma's lips too. They always have so much fun when the two couples (well, more like the two men) bicker and play the ' _who's the best couple'_ game.

"I took her to dinner at our first date," David states and pulls Mary Margaret to his side, placing a gentle kiss on her temple.

Emma is really grateful and happy that her adoptive brother has found someone who absolutely completes him. Emma is convinced that those two are actually made for each other. She can only hope that one day she would find someone like that…

 _Maybe that someone is Killian,_ she hears a tiny, barely audible whisper in her head say.

"It was a drive-through," Liam reminds him with a raised eyebrow.

"And let me guess, that was the moment you knew that you'd found the one," Emma teases, but her tone is colored with mild curiosity.

"Not really. The main reason I agreed to have dinner with him was because I was feeling guilty for robbing him," Mary Margaret answers with amusement dancing in her eyes.

"Or," David cuts in, "because you got caught and I pretty much blackmailed you into it," he chuckles, tightening his hold on his fiancée.

"That reminds me, you never really told me how exactly you two met," Emma turns to David.

"And I never asked you how exactly you got to Killian's place and stayed the night, so…"

"Ok, you got me, asshole," Emma grumbles quickly before the conversation can turn to Killian and her again. She's glad they're no longer in the spotlight and wouldn't really mind if that were the case throughout the day.

"Mother?" David asks.

"Yes, son?" Ruth turns to her only child by blood with a kind and lazy smile on her lips. One could never tell that she's past fifty. Her round face decorated with only a few wrinkles, and she moves around the house and in her garden as if she were an athlete. There's always a smile on her face – even when Emma shattered a rather expensive vase or broke the coffee maker - and Emma remembers the reason she was so quick to let herself open up to her. She never treated her any different than she treated David, and she was the first person who didn't make her feel like an outsider or an intruder.

Emma is as much as a daughter to her as David is her son.

"You and father?" David pries further with a raised eyebrow.

Emma never met David's father. Unfortunately, he died when David was only seven years old. She knew that he had a problem with alcohol but was starting to get better in his addiction when a sudden car accident took him away from his family.

Ruth never remarried after that, and devoted all her time to her son, and later to Emma as well. Emma admired her adoptive mother for her strength to go on and loved to hear stories about the three of them before she joined the family.

"What about your father and me?" Ruth asks back with the same expression.

"When you two met, way back in the ancient times," David grins and Ruth tries to glare at her son but her smile makes it difficult to see the scolding behind her eyes. "So several decades ago, did you go on dates?"

A warmth always floods her when she thinks about how many years Ruth and Robert had weathered together in good and bad before tragedy struck. No matter how hard it got sometimes with Robert's addiction, their love never wavered. That is how true love should be, Emma thinks: it endures everything and always comes out victorious.

"We…Well…" Emma has never seen Ruth so embarrassed; it's quite surprising.

"I want to know, too! Did you go on dates with Robert?" Mary Margaret chimes in with a cheerful tone.

"Not really, we were more focused on…other things," Ruth looks down with a slight blush on her cheeks.

"More focused on each other, right?" Liam grins and glances at Elsa with a wink. Ruth blushes even more, if possible.

David lets out a triumphant laugh. "Okay, well, we're a 'No dating, but conquering' kind of family. So, Killian, take an example from us," David glances at his best friend, "you don't have to overcomplicate it."

Killian chuckles and leans closer to Emma, whispering in her ear so that only she can hear it. "If it were up to me, we wouldn't overcomplicate it. We would simply be together and together shall we remain."

A shiver runs through her spine at his words. She's absolutely certain that Killian is grinning from ear to ear, but she doesn't dare turn her head towards him. Her heart beats a crazy staccato in her chest and if she were to look into those ridiculously blue eyes, maybe neither of them could resist kissing the life out of each other. And maybe the fact that she's still standing against his chest, enveloped in his arms, doesn't cause her the urge to run anymore, but if they were to start a tongue wrestling match in front of their families, it would certainly make her uncomfortable and slightly embarrassed.

This all still needs some getting used to.

So instead, she tightens her hold on his arms and squeezes his good hand gently, hoping that the gesture makes him understand that she, too, wants exactly that.

˘. . . ° . . . ˘

At first, Killian doesn't know what that sharp, unsettling noise coming from somewhere around his apartment is, but as he rubs the sleepiness out of his eyes and the fog clears around his mind, he realizes that someone must have fallen asleep on his damn doorbell.

He gets out of the bed with heavy limbs, pulls on his sweatpants and an old t-shirt, and staggers to the front door. He switches on some lights on his way and opens the door, his lids still heavy as lead.

For a moment he thinks he's still dreaming because _what the bloody hell_ is Will Scarlet doing on his doorstep? He's in black jeans and shirt. On a Sunday afternoon.

This is…quite surreal.

"Is the gorgeous blonde still here?" asks his colleague in greeting, his lips pulling into a dark and taunting smile.

"No," Killian answers in a worn, hoarse tone. They said goodbye to each other a couple of hours ago when they left the Nolans' residence after their weekend getaway ended. But that's not what Will meant. "And how the bloody hell do you know she was _here_?"

"I had breakfast with Robin and the others," Will explains. "Aurora's been bugging me ever since someone saw me talking with Emma a couple of days ago. And someone else saw that she came home with you. And someone shared all this with Aurora. And now everyone is terribly curious about how we would solve this little conflict since they think both of us made a move on her."

Killian has a hard time making sense of the words coming out of Scarlet's mouth, but somehow he manages to put the picture together.

"And so to feed those rumors, you knock on my door." Killian raises his eyebrows.

"No, I don't really care about those tales." Will shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly. "I just wanted to see how you look when you're jealous. And as for Emma, I just wanted to see her pretty face," he finishes with a slightly challenging edge to his tone, but Killian only smiles and waves his words away.

He knows a dig when he sees one.

In response, Will gives him an _'I'm glad we understand each other'_ smile and lifts up the bottle in his grip.

"Fancy a drink? I got this from my sister for Christmas, a good plum brandy."

"Come in, then," Killian mumbles, and even though he dislikes brandy and avoids consuming it if possible, he won't say no to free drinks, so he steps away from the doorway and lets Will in. Will throws off his shoes and stomps into the living room. Killian locks his door and follows him.

"Were you sleeping?" Will asks, as his gaze takes in Killian's disheveled form for the first time since he arrived.

"Aye."

"Sorry, mate, for waking you up," he says as he slumps into an armchair.

"Forget it." Killian waves away his apology as he walks into the kitchen. He takes out two shot glasses from the cabinet and places them on the coffee table. "I don't have anything for a chaser."

"It would be a sin to ruin this with a chaser," Will notes and unscrews the cap. He takes a sniff of the bottle with a delightful expression and turns to Killian with a grin. "It will certainly knock us out."

"Fill the cups, then," Killian says as he takes a seat.

Will spares no mind as he fills the shot glasses to the brim. They toast and down the liquor.

"Bloody hell…" The curse escapes Killian's lips as the alcohol burns a trail down his throat.

"It has strength, aye?" Will groans and pours another without question.

After they gulp down the next round, Killian turns to Will now with full consciousness, thanks to the two shots. "As a matter of fact, what exactly are you doing here?"

"I thought we could drink," he informs Killian simply.

"In my apartment?" Killian asks, and he has some difficulty hiding his surprise that his colleague is here.

"We had drinks at the bar, why couldn't we do that here?"

"Makes sense," Killian surrenders. "And why are we drinking?"

"Because life is beautiful?" Will asks in a mocking tone.

Killian has a suspicious feeling that there's something going on with Will, but since he obviously doesn't want to talk about it, Killian wouldn't force the subject. If Will needs someone to drink with and he chose him, Killian will hold his tongue and only use his mouth to chug down an unknown quantity of alcohol. Sometimes, strange friendships are born unexpectedly, and maybe they really drifted closer because of Emma. In the end, it doesn't really matter, though – he wouldn't send Will away regardless. If someone needs him, he never says no, and it seems that Scarlet needs the company.

"So how did the night go?" Will asks thoughtfully after another round.

"So much for not caring about rumors," Killian flares up gleefully.

"I didn't say I would pass on the obtained information. I'm merely curious…So?"

"We didn't have sex if that's what you want to know," Killian says and maybe it's a bit strange and even unusual, but he doesn't mind it at all. He enjoys going slow with Emma, that everything has its own time, that those thrilling moments that bring them closer to each other are not rushed and too quick to just fade into oblivion. Somehow, this way, there's more emphasis on the two of them, that they're together.

"Be careful mate, your reputation is in danger." Will smirks and fills their glasses again.

"Emma is different," Killian says with a faint smile playing on his lips.

"Christ…you really fancy her, aye? Then let's drink to that!" He raises his glass.

"Don't you ever want something else? Something more?" Killian asks with interest after the brandy scorches its way down his throat and he's able to speak again.

"No. I'm really fond of my merry bachelor life." He leans back contently. He turns the glass back and forth in his hand.

"But doesn't it tire you that you always have to start from the beginning over and over again?"

"I enjoy the seduction." He glances at Killian and his expression becomes thoughtful. "But…sometimes maybe…I wouldn't mind having some stability. And if you show me an intelligent woman who doesn't wish for love and babes, only dirty sex, I would move in with her in that instant," he finishes, accompanied by a dark smile, and before Killian can say anything, he refills their glasses.

Killian senses it's starting to be too much for him, but doesn't voice his concern. He can still take it and there's not much until they reach the bottom of the bottle anyway. At least his bed is in close proximity.

"What would you do in my position?" he asks after they gulp down their drinks. He has no idea if Will understood his question, but he's not sure that in this moment he can explain it more.

"Are you seriously asking _me_ that?" Will's voice couldn't be more mocking if he tried. "Haven't you heard the rumors? Allegedly, I don't even have a heart."

"Or, you just hide it quite well," Killian shrugs and continues to look expectantly at his colleague.

Will gives him a faint smile. "Don't give up on her. If you really want her, simply don't let her go. Prove to her that you want her and only her."

"But how do you prove such a thing?"

"Buy her flowers," Will replies instantly with a completely serious expression.

The two men stare at each other for a moment before bursting out in laughter. "You're an insensitive wanker," Killian notes after they calm down a bit.

"Say something new, mate," he smiles darkly.

"I would really like to see when, one day, a woman captures your attention for more than one night," Killian remarks, and this time his tone is the mocking one.

"Jones, that woman who could one day sweep me off my feet hasn't been born yet. If she's only now born or will be born, then by the time she grows up I'll maybe be dead. So this is highly unlikely." Will shakes his head wearily. He seems to really mean what he's saying.

Killian flashes him a cheerful smile. "I once felt as you did, mate. All it took was meeting the right person and everything changed. When I first laid eyes on Emma, I knew…"

"Okay," Will interrupts him, "this is too much for me, it's time for me to go. As opposed to others, I have to rehearse tomorrow." He stands up from the armchair. He doesn't look a bit as though he just consumed half a bottle of plum brandy in a very short time.

Killian stands with a little more difficulty. He knows that the alcohol has gotten to his head.

"You really can't handle a bit of alcohol, can ya?" Will glances back at him from the doorway. "I haven't even noticed so far."

"We haven't had brandy together so far," Killian mumbles, and it's the truth. He usually drinks beer, and rum occasionally. "And anyway, I can handle a lot of sex, but booze, not so much. I can't be perfect at anything." He grins insolently.

Will waves resignedly and starts walking towards the elevator.

Killian locks the door behind him and goes back to the living room, collapsing in one of the armchairs. He's not exactly drunk but the brandy has knocked him in the head. He only now realizes that Will had left the bottle, so he screws the cap on, but doesn't have enough energy to put it in the kitchen cabinet, so he stays seated.

As his eyes flit restlessly over every corner of his apartment, he's suddenly filled with a strange sense of loss. How is it that everything in here reminds him of Emma? She was only here once, but still, it's as if the apartment is filled with the memory of her. He sees her in front of him as she walks through the doorstep and stops hesitantly as she sits in the armchair, as she lies on his bed, as she sleeps with a sweet smile dancing on her lips.

He doesn't really think when he snatches his phone off the coffee table and starts writing a text.

 _I miss you. Yesterday was so much more fun. Which one of us had that preposterous idea that we should spend the night apart? And which one of us were daft enough to agree to it?_

Killian is really proud of his text, especially since the letters on his screen seem quite tiny and it was difficult to put every one of them in its rightful place. He searches for Emma's number (he asked Ruth to tell him since he was afraid Emma would refuse to tell him and warn everyone not to give it to him either. It was easier to go straight to Ruth and she gave it to him with a secretive smile) and sends the message without much thought.

He sets his phone aside and stares vacantly ahead. He starts tapping with his foot. He picks up his phone again and checks if he didn't accidentally silence it, but the sound is on, so he places it back on the table and gazes again at the wall in front of him.

When after a few seconds his phone signals for a new message, he grabs the device enthusiastically.

 _ **At this exact time yesterday, where were crammed on the couch like sardines watching David's lame tv show.**_

Killian grins and tries to compose an answer as fast as he can.

 _That was such an Emma thing to say._

Is she sitting on her bed and waiting for his text, just as impatiently as he was a few minutes ago? Is she smiling too? And what is she wearing?

This time, he doesn't have to wait long for her text; her answer comes within seconds.

 _ **Sorry, you thought you were texting with someone else?**_

Killian starts typing an answer but those bloody letters are getting smaller by the minute, and even though he senses that her text was meant to be a joke, he still can't be completely sure of that, so he presses the _Call_ button. He wants to make it clear as soon as possible, that he hasn't the slightest intention of texting with somebody else that isn't her.

He doesn't even like texting.

"You called me," Emma answers almost immediately in a surprised tone.

"I couldn't find the letters," he defends himself.

"Are you drunk?" she asks, even though he tried really hard to make sure it couldn't be heard from his voice. The brandy must have hit him harder than he thought.

"Not drunk, Swan, just a bit woozy," he says carefully, although he's not fully convinced of the truth of this statement.

"Woozy?" she asks in a skeptical tone, but Killian can hear the smile in her voice.

He tries to act offended every time she mocks his speech, because according to her _nobody talks like that anymore, Killian_ , but he secretly loves how his unusual use of words makes her laugh.

Killian nods at her question, but of course, Emma can't see that. "Aye," he says and he doesn't know what kind of impulse makes him add the next: "And a hot bath would be quite good."

"Okay, then I'll leave you to it." Is he imagining the disappointment in her voice?

"No, don't hang up!" Killian pleads quickly. "If you're not here, then at least let me hear your voice," he explains as he stands and walks into the bathroom.

"But you just said you want to take a bath," she notes, puzzled.

"The two things aren't mutually exclusive, love," he informs her cheerfully as he opens the tap. "Hear that, Swan? The tub is already filling with water," he declares triumphantly.

"You want to talk to me while you take a bath?" Her voice sounds incredulous, or maybe he only hears it that way because it fades into the sound of the running water hitting the inside of the tub.

"I always want to talk to you," he says and thoughtfully adds, "Fine, I want other things too…"

"Killian!" The scolding edge in her tone fades as she laughs.

"That's the truth, Swan." He nods firmly and he doesn't know why, since Emma can't see him. "Wait a second, love, don't hang up. I'm undressing…"

Killian sets his phone aside, yanks his clothes off, which, in his current state, is not an easy task.

 _What the bloody hell was in that brandy?_

He climbs in the tub, turns the tap so the water flows more gently so he could hear Emma better and picks up his phone again.

"I'm here," he declares.

"Naked?" she asks.

"Aye," Killian smiles and waits a few moments before asking with a smug expression. "Did you just imagine me naked?"

"No!" comes her reply far too quickly.

How hard is she blushing right now? And did she really envision him? And if so, did she like what she saw?

"Liar," he mutters. "You know, Swan, I'd like this bath much better if you were here with me," he says wistfully and he can picture it clearly as Emma sits before him in the hot water. "You would sit on the opposite side of the tub with all your naked…"

"Killian, don't," she warns, interrupting his musings.

"Too late." He grins. "I'm picturing you here with me, your hands wandering under the water, doing wicked things to…"

"Killian, I'm not doing phone sex with you," Emma states and Killian can picture it in front of him how she raises her chin in defiance. He really fancies her rebellious side.

"Does that mean you'll have normal sex?"

"Okay, Killian, you're not making any sense. I'll leave you with your fantasies now. Tomorrow we'll…talk," she says in a muddled voice.

"And meet too?" he asks, for safety's sake, because he can't bear the thought of not seeing Emma the next day.

"If you want," she answers a bit shyly. He likes shy Emma too.

"I always want you, Emma." His voice turns serious, then a smile tugs at his lips. "Don't hang up yet!"

"Killian, you're drunk. You should be in bed."

"I would be if you were here." He hears as she sucks in a sharp breath and the smile on his lips stretches even wider. "Listen, Swan. Can I ask you a question?"

"Just one," she relents, her voice rings gentle in his ear.

"Do you prefer to be on top or under?" he asks suddenly, and not at all surprised when the line stays silent. Then she sighs again.

"Depends on my mood, like everything else."

"Then you like it gentle and rough too?" he inquires further. Truthfully, it's not a good idea for him to be talking about this topic. All kinds of images jostle around in his brain, some very tempting images.

"Yes, but I don't think now is…"

"And oral sex?" he cuts in.

"What about it?" she asks back in a deliberately neutral tone.

"Do you like it?"

"Killian, are you seriously…"

"These are important questions, Swan," he tells her, and even though he's slightly drunk, he really means it. "When you're in the moment and passion takes over you, you don't ask these things. And even if you do, maybe your partner won't answer you honestly, but you must know these if you want to pleasure them, no? It's easier to talk about this over the phone, or at least I think so. The truth is, Swan, it wouldn't bother me either if you were here and I could see as your cheeks blush more and more after each question…"

"Yes, I like it," she interrupts.

Killian grins into his phone. He doesn't know if her answer or the new images it creates in his mind makes him happier.

"And on a scale of one to ten, how sensitive are your breasts?"

"Let's say, eight," she replies and Killian can sense her smile from her tone.

"That's good." He's aware that he must be grinning like a fool, but he doesn't care.

"You just pictured it, didn't you?" he hears her, but he can't decide if her tone is more nervous or resigned. How he wishes he could see her right now.

"Your breasts, or that I'm kissing them?" He almost chuckles, but that would take the gravity out of the question, so he restrains himself.

"Okay, Killian, I'm hanging up," she declares, her voice now cheerful.

"Just a last one, please?" he pleads quickly.

Emma stays silent for a few moments, but Killian senses she will surrender.

"Okay, but it really is the last."

Killian takes a deep breath. "Did this conversation arouse you?"

Emma doesn't answer. Killian waits patiently, but to no avail. It crosses his mind that perhaps she's hung up, so he quickly checks the screen of his phone – they're still connected.

"Swan, are you still there?" he asks carefully.

Why doesn't she say something? Did his question upset her that much? She's not one for getting embarrassed so easily. Is she ashamed that she's aroused? But the other night…she did feel distressed after that. Somehow he needs to make her understand that there's nothing to be ashamed of. Killian, for that matter, feels no shame for being hard as a rock right now.

"Yes," she finally replies in a quiet tone.

"To which one?" he asks with a frown.

"Goodnight, Killian!" she responds with laughter in her voice.

"Goodnight, Swan," he says goodbye just as cheerfully and he's happy because that 'yes' was also an answer to his first question – he's quite certain of that fact.

* * *

 _ **Did you like it? Did you hate it? Let me know which :)**_


	10. Chapter 10

**Hi guys! Happy New Year! I'M BACK! And so is this story. 2018 was a hell of a busy year for me, I couldn't even write 1 word for my ongoing stories. But it's a whole new year and so I'm back in the fanfiction world again. Hope you guys are still here :)**

 **Thanks to my amazing beta for correcting my mistakes! x**

 **Happy reading!**

* * *

 **Chapter 10**

 _He's touching her, fingertips wandering down her slender body. His skin is hot as he caresses her. How can his hands be everywhere?_

 _"Please don't stop. Don't ever stop."_

 _She feels herself falling apart under his ministrations as he tries to feel every part of her skin, like he wants to burn it to memory._

 _Hot kisses trail down her neck and she's getting closer and closer to her ultimate peak of pleasure…_

Emma wakes up with a gasp. She looks around, and for a moment has no idea where she is. Her dream is her reality now. The soft touches on her skin, the traces of heated kisses on her neck and lips.

Her matted hair sticks to her forehead and nape of her neck like glue. She feels as if all the heat of summer had moved under her thick blanket. Still panting, she kicks off the sheets, her limbs feeling like lead. The cool air of the room clings to her skin, silencing the maddening waves tormenting her body.

She doesn't really understand why she had _another_ erotic dream. It tends to happen pretty rarely and once they disappear, they don't come back so soon. Does she really want Killian that much? Or is it just some twisted thing of her imagination because it has been ages since she had gotten laid?

Emma decides to pull the blanket back over her body and curls up under it. She doesn't want to admit it, but the desire bubbling in every inch of her body scares her a bit. It's not even desire anymore, but more like a dark attraction that she just can't resist. It's an elemental force that cannot be overcome. She wants Killian so badly…

She wanted him from the moment they met. From that fateful night in the bar, she's been having dreams of him occasionally, but never this vivid and detailed. Until now, the dreams were just captured and blurred moments, uncertain flashes – exactly the same as the erotic dreams she's had in the past. Chaotic and pointless, which are only making her wake up sleepless and all hot and bothered. That's why, at first, she didn't even know she was dreaming of Killian. But then the touches became familiar, and at some point, she thought she even saw him. Of course, _then_ she didn't want to admit it (maybe she even felt ashamed) but now she can face her feelings.

 _But how can it be so graphic?_

Emma closes her eyes and sighs. She doesn't even know what time is it anyway, it's not like she has a job now to get to. Maybe she should get out of bed and stop having this impromptu pity party. She planned so many things to do, she can't laze around all day. But her body still feels a bit weary and aching all over — she doesn't have enough energy to simply open her eyes. So instead, she lets her mind slip into comfortable darkness again.

The next time she wakes, faint light streams through the curtains, the morning sun lighting up her old room. Since there was a burst pipe in her apartment complex, she came to live with Ruth and the two lovebirds. She thought it would be nice, being further away from the loud and busy city and have some time with her family. She doesn't feel all that much more relaxed now, but she tries to haul herself out of the comfort of her old bed anyway and trudge into the kitchen downstairs.

She makes herself a strong coffee instead of her usual hot chocolate and, to her delight, it seems everyone in the house is still in Dreamland, so she can sip her hot beverage in peace.

Her mind drifts to Killian as she glances out the window. She recalls last night and the day before that, and for a fleeting moment, her dream flits through her mind.

Emma feels a stupid blush creeping onto her cheeks.

She thanks whoever is up there that people don't have the ability to read each other's minds. It would be pretty embarrassing for her if someone – especially Killian – knew what she's thinking about right now.

She wonders how things are going to be today.

Should she wait until Killian contacts her? How drunk was he yesterday anyway? Would he even remember their not-so-innocent conversation the night before?

A faint smile plays on Emma's lips as she thinks back to their exchanged words. She never thought she would have this kind of conversation with him so soon.

After she takes a shower, makes herself ready, and gathers the things she will need for the day, she says goodbye to Ruth and the two lovebirds who have woken up in the meantime. She pulls on her boots and coat and steps out into the chilly air.

It takes her half an hour to reach downtown — David offered his car for her to borrow until hers is done in repair, but she actually likes to walk. The snow-covered city is a sight to behold – it's like she's strolling through a winter wonderland – so she doesn't mind that she refused his offer.

Not to mention that this way, she can clear her head a bit. She's still thinking of Killian and their relationship, of course, since she's unable to guide her thoughts elsewhere. Emma is simultaneously excited and terrified. It still feels good. She feels alive for the first time in ages, if she's honest with herself.

When she reaches her destination, a lovely bookshop just on the edge of downtown, she shakes the snow off her boots and steps into the warm store.

"Hi!" Belle greets her right away, looking at her with a wide smile.

Emma really likes the brunette – she was a classmate of Killian's when he came to the States to finish his last year in college. The two became really good friends very fast, considering they are both from the same country and their love of books. Belle often came to their favorite bar for a few drinks and that's where Emma got to know her. She found her a bit strange at first (later she admitted it was because she was so close to Killian), but they found their common ground in reading and books.

"Hey, Belle!" Emma replies, reciprocating her smile as she slips her gloves and beanie off, and loosens her thick, almost knee-length scarf as well. She pulls out Killian's sodden book from her bag. "I need another copy of this."

"What happened to this poor thing?" Belle takes the book from her hand and – in what Emma thinks is an instinctive move – she turns its pages.

"I dropped it in the tub," Emma replies with a grimace. She's not exactly proud of her clumsiness because she's always careful with books, especially if they're borrowed.

She doesn't know how this happened.

Or maybe she does.

Maybe it had something to do with a certain blue-eyed man who makes her thoughts a tangled mess on a daily basis.

"Don't worry. I have another one somewhere. I'll be right back," the brunette smiles again and hurries to one of the bookshelves in the back.

As she waits, Emma casts her eyes around the store, glancing longingly from one book to another. She's almost at the end of her savings – because of being jobless and all – so she can't really afford a new book, not even a second-hand one. Until her Bug is out of repair, she can't really go into bounty hunting again.

Belle returns after a few moments, placing it on the counter and rings it up. Emma fishes out enough money from her bag and – before she gets tempted – quickly pays for the copy.

"Thank you so much."

"No problem. Is it good? I haven't read it."

"Is there actually a book out there you haven't read?" Emma asks in mock surprise. She knows Belle won't be offended by her jest – she's one of the few people who accept Emma for who she is.

"Fortunately yes. Many, in fact," Belle smiles.

"I don't know," Emma replies to her previous question. "It's Killian's. Only read it while I was in the tub," she shrugs.

"At Killian's?" Belle's eyes light up with excitement.

"I was wondering how long you would be able to hold back," Emma notes.

"What?" Belle looks at her innocently, but she's not a great actress – and Emma's still got her superpower.

"The questions."

"Ruby told me that you're… dating," she reveals tentatively.

"Yeah," Emma nods cautiously.

"I'm happy for you. Killian is a good guy. You deserve him," Belle declares, sounding a little resigned – she knows Emma won't be a talkative chat partner where this topic is concerned.

"I'm not so sure about that," Emma murmurs half-aloud.

"Are you serious?"

"Maybe he's too good for _me_ ," she mutters in a sad tone. It's weird – saying this fear of hers aloud for the first time. She doesn't know why she chose to share it with Belle though.

"Forgive me for saying this, Emma, but you're an idiot," Belle declares vehemently and Emma widens her eyes – it's strange seeing the always smiling girl so angry.

Then Emma's lips pull into a bitter smile. "Thanks, that's exactly the kind of encouragement I needed right now."

"Emma, you're not a bad person, but…I think you are a little lost. Which is no surprise, who wouldn't be with your past experiences? Killian is lucky that…" Belle freezes for a moment suddenly, then steps out from behind the register with a big smile. "Wait, I'll be right back!"

Emma watches with new foreboding as the brunette saunters over to a nearby bookshelf. "No, Belle, no. Please, I don't want it," Emma tries to stop her, but Belle's fingers are already gliding across the ridges of the books.

When Emma first visited the little shop to find something to read during the cold winter afternoons a few months ago, Belle gifted her with a book that she said "called to Emma". According to Killian, Belle has some sixth sense when it comes to books – she claims to know what people _need_ to read.

Belle pulls off a heavy, hard-bound book from the shelf and steps back to Emma with a happy smile. "Here. It wants you," she offers the item to her, but Emma shakes her head.

This skill of Belle's actually creeps her out a bit. If a book wants a person, then there's probably a reason for it, right? But that doesn't necessarily mean that said person wants to _face_ that reason.

"If you won't accept it I'm going to get offended," Belle insists and she doesn't seem like she will give up.

Emma grumpily takes the book and glances down at it for a moment – she's already read it, why the hell would this book want her?

"If you give away books to every customer, sooner or later you'll go bankrupt," Emma remarks in a slightly mocking tone. She can't be mad at Belle for thrusting a book into her hands, but that doesn't mean she's happy about it.

"We'll detract it from my salary," Belle says happily then her gaze becomes somewhat veiled. "Though, my husband is not too keen on this habit of mine."

"What am I not keen on?" says said man as he steps out of the back office.

Belle's face lights up at his presence and one could clearly read the true love in her eyes.

Emma also turns towards the man. To be honest, the first time she met Robert Gold she was kind of terrified of him at first. No, not terrified – more like intimidated. The man has his own derisive style which he doesn't exactly try to hide, (especially, for some reason, when Killian is present) and more often than not she is also on the receiving end of it. By now she's gotten used to it, and besides, if Belle loves him, he can't be _that_ bad.

"To pay back the books that I give away as gifts."

"It's rather foolish since you are my wife and the shop is our shared property," he notes and his lips are already pulled into that characteristic mocking smile.

Belle shrugs her shoulders as an answer and continues to smile at Gold. At this moment, Emma thinks, they look at each other as if they are about to start their foreplay.

"Ok, thank you for the books. I think I'll get going and you two just…have fun," Emma cringes at her own words.

Belle flashes her a smile (Emma can't remember if she ever saw the brunette _not_ smiling) and Gold lifts one of his eyebrows, clearly indicating that "having fun" is not amongst his favorite expressions. Emma grins and waves at them, and before Gold can retort with a biting comment she steps out of the store with a laugh.

She makes her way to the Music Hall in a light mood. A thought flits through her mind that maybe she could stop by Killian's apartment as she walks past his building, but remembering their phone call the night before and his clearly intoxicated voice, Emma is sure he's still asleep and doesn't want to be bothered.

Her stomach ties into a nervous knot now that she's so close to Killian – what happens when they eventually run into each other later this day? Would she turn into a blushing, shaky-legged teenager?

Emma surprisingly smiles at the thought – even if that will be the case, she doesn't mind.

She strolls through the park, her gaze delightedly skimming across snow-covered branches and bushes, and she feels a bit like she's in a fairy tale again. If it weren't so cold and the wind didn't pick up now and again and sprinkle the snow from the trees, then this day would be near perfect. Maybe it is.

It's strange how Emma feels so cheery today, but it's definitely a pleasant feeling. One she didn't get too much of in the past. And somewhere deep inside of her, she knows it's because of Killian.

As soon as she reaches the Music Hall, she turns to the doorman with a polite smile. "Good morning! I'd like to leave a book here for Killian Jones. Is that alright?"

The man nods – he doesn't seem a chatty one – and stretches his hand out for the book. Emma drops the item in his palm and she's about to take her leave, when a familiar, heavily accented voice reaches her ears.

"Hello, gorgeous."

She turns around, arches her eyebrow and flashes a sharp glance at Will. "Emma. My name is Emma."

"Aye, I know. I heard it enough from Killian yesterday," he gives her a smile, but there's no warmth in the gesture.

"Really?" she asks, and the smile that sneaks onto her lips is a genuine and happy one.

Will casts his eyes upward for a second, then glances back at Emma. "Oi, that foolishly hopeless expression is wounding me, love," his voice takes on quite a dramatic tone, but his face is shadowed by a somber expression. "Ye know his fancies you very much, don't you?"

"Why are you telling me this?" Emma narrows her eyes at him in suspicion.

"You seem like the kind of lass who needs reassurance."

"Am I really that transparent?"

"No, I wouldn't call you transparent," he says, pondering. "You are more like a mirror, that shows us what we don't want to see."

Emma is taken aback by his words. Is she really like that? And is it even good or bad?

"A bit strange opinion after a few minutes of knowing me."

"No," he shakes his head slowly. "When I look into your eyes, I see what I really am. A black-hearted scoundrel. You see me as such. If Killian didn't exist, you would maybe even find me attractive, but of course, I don't have a chance now. Which is rather good for you. After all, I really am a scoundrel," his lips pull into a narrow, humorless smile.

"Or you just see yourself too darkly," Emma notes quietly, because she knows the feeling. She used to do that too.

"No, believe me, I'm not. So thank your lucky stars that Killian found you first," he adds before turning his back to her with a dark smile.

At a loss, Emma watches his disappearing form down the hallway – she finds this man rather weird.

"Swan?" she hears behind her back and as she spins around, her heart rate picks up at the sight.

Killian, hands in his pockets, stands just a few feet from her, looking slightly tense. Obviously, he's not in his best shape – his eyes look tired, and his stubble is thicker and darker around his chin than usual. Emma finds his facial hair really attractive, and suddenly gets an urge to run her palm across his cheek. She wants to feel it rub against her skin, wants it to skim across her face…

She blushes at the thought – yes, this is exactly that shaky-legged teenager moment she was thinking about earlier.

"How are you?" she asks him in what she hopes is a neutral tone, but she can hardly conceal her excitement.

"My head is pounding like blazes, but I think I deserve it," he scratches behind his ear nervously, then lets down his arm and glances at her with uncertain and fearful eyes. "Did you…hate me very much yesterday?"

"No," she gives him a smile. "You were funny."

"Truth is, I can't stand plum brandy. Rum is a much better fit for me," he finally cracks a smile and the tension in Emma's body floats away.

But only now she realizes how on edge she was. She much better likes when Killian is happy and has his signature smirk on. Seeing him all worried filled her with uneasiness too.

"I like rum too," she shrugs.

It's strange how awkwardly they stand in front of each other. It feels like a first date, when you're all jittery, your heart pumps a mile a minute and dizziness – from happiness, expectation, tension and who knows what else - is threatening to take you over.

"That's good," he steps closer to her. "Would you like to have breakfast with me? My treat."

"Killian, it's way past eleven," Emma notes and is happy that her comment is seemingly breaking through that awkward wall they've built between each other.

"Lunch, then. It's a matter of opinion," he grins.

"I don't know…"

"Oh, come on, Swan! We certainly didn't run into each other on accident. Destiny wants us to have lunch together," he declares.

"Destiny?" she glances up at him with a raised eyebrow and she really has to force down a laugh.

"Maybe." He smiles at her with something resembling shyness.

Emma can't hold it anymore, her amusement bubbles up from her throat. "Okay."

Killian beams at her and reaches for her hand. Emma can't image her heart could beat any faster.

He doesn't say a word while he leads her up to the cafeteria. Despite it being a rehearsal day for the charity ball, there aren't as many people as she had expected. One person sleeps on a couch with a music sheet on their head, another one intently studies some lyrics by a table and two people are deep in conversation by another table.

There are a variety of meals they can choose from, but they both pick the same: chicken parmesan. High school memories flash before her eyes as she places a tray in front of her and waits for the woman behind the counter to give them their food. When they take a seat by a table, a crackling voice fills the place.

Emma doesn't understand a word of it.

"What is that?" she glances at Killian.

"The caller."

"What is he saying?"

"The stage manager calls the performers, the decorators, property men for changes, so anyone who is needed on the stage at the moment…but are you really interested in it?" Killian glances at her curiously.

"The music industry kind of fascinates me," Emma shrugs. "It's strange that I get to see behind it now, if you know what I mean. I find it compelling."

"If you want, I can give you a tour after lunch," he smiles and Emma feels he likes that she shows interest in his work.

"Really?"

"Of course."

"And what do you rehearse today?" inquires Emma with curious eyes.

" _Go Your Own Way_ and some other 70's songs."

" _Go Your Own Way_ as in Fleetwood Mac?" she asks eagerly.

"You know them?" Killian glances at her in amazement.

"I told you I like older songs."

"You surprise me time and time again," he notes and admiration shines in his eyes.

Emma bows her head to hide her slight blush.

"May I sit?" a sharp tone interrupts them suddenly. Emma doesn't have to look up to know who's standing by their table, the woman's voice and arrogance take her back to the day she visited Killian's gig a couple days ago and watching this woman practically throw herself at him.

"Aye," Killian nods kindly and a sudden jealousy cuts through Emma. Why does he allow that woman to have lunch with them? Of course, saying no would be kind of rude and Killian is always a gentleman, but still…

"Hi! I'm Aurora," the redhead extends her arm towards Emma and flashes her a not-so-kind smile.

"Emma," she grudgingly shakes her hand. Emma really hates being fake-friendly. Why should she act like she likes someone, when she clearly doesn't?

The redhead eyes her with curiosity, then turns to Killian and starts chatting about all kinds of gossips about the performers. It's like she's deliberately trying to shut Emma out of the conversation. Even though Killian nods every once in a while, the disinterest clearly shows on his face, but it seemingly doesn't bother Aurora and the woman continues to babble animatedly. Emma glances furtively at Killian, who snacks on his lunch without looking up, so Emma decides to concentrate on her meal too.

They finish eating in a couple of minutes. Killian takes her plate with a smile and walks back to the counter with their trays.

"You know," Aurora starts as soon as Killian is out of earshot, looking at Emma coldly. "Killian is like a book that everyone wants to read. And then when you get it and read it, you eventually have to take it back to the library."

"Sorry, but your metaphor is pretty lame, and you know what?" Emma throws angry sparks with her eyes at the other woman. "If I want, I keep the book, especially if it's unique and special. I'd rather pay its price, which is I think in this case is you, being a stupid bitch because you can't get over the fact that you were only good for one fuck."

"He won't want you for more, either," the woman retorts weakly.

"If it wasn't clear, I don't give a fuck about your opinion," Emma states, and stands up with a defiant look on her face. She grabs her purse and coat along with Killian's and starts walking towards him.

"Is there something wrong?" Killian asks in an instant, sensing that something is not right with her.

"Let's just go," Emma mutters and not waiting for his answer, she starts to walk.

They reached the bottom of the stairs when she angrily (though, she's more angry at herself than at Killian – she's the one who couldn't restrain herself for what that skank said) turns her head over her shoulder. "You can cross out the "not swearing" part on the list."

"Why do you say that?" he asks quietly.

"Because a bet is a bet!" she snaps. It's unbelievable how she let that woman to ruin her good mood.

Killian suddenly grabs her arm and pulls her through a door. Emma has no idea where they are, the only thing she knows is that they are in a small, cramped room, but she can't see a thing in the darkness.

"What the…"

"They started a rehearsal," Killian explains gently. "No one will hear us this way. So what are you talking about?"

"Where are we?"

"The cloakroom," he informs her and switches on the light. He doesn't pull his arm back and rests it on the wall beside her head. Her heart starts to beat furiously in her chest at their proximity. She glances up at him and it surprises her that she sees worry in his blue eyes again.

"So?" he asks again.

"Well, if you're going to hate me in two weeks then it doesn't matter if I lose the bet or not because you don't want to go the ball with me anyway."

"Why would I hate you?" he frowns.

"Because I insulted your colleague?"

"I highly doubt that. Aurora can't be hurt easily. How did she piss you off?"

Emma twists her mouth but she can see it from his expression that he won't let this slide, so she reluctantly repeats what Aurora has said and what Emma replied to her. Towards the end of her short summary of the situation, his lips tremble from time to time, as if he's trying very hard to suppress a smile. It slightly relaxes Emma, because it means he's not angry with her.

"I don't understand why is she so offended that I'm with you," Emma finishes and can't quite hide the hesitant sadness from her tone.

"It doesn't offend her just...maybe she's a little confused," Killian shrugs. "I think she's only looking for happiness and she's disappointed that she won't find it with me. I don't think she wanted to hurt you personally, but rather she was trying to justify herself. Maybe she's angry at herself for sleeping with me and...she can only process that this way. She's not really a bad person and despite all appearances, she terribly lacks self-confidence."

"You always see the best in people, don't you?" she glances up at Killian with a faint smile on her lips.

"Why should I see the bad when I can see the good instead?" he asks back and his expression is so open and clear that her breath is momentarily caught in her throat.

Suddenly, he leans closer to her and gently, softly kisses her. Only their lips are playing with one another, but it is still so sweet that Emma feels her knees weaken.

"What...was that for?" she asks when he pulls away slightly.

"Because you looked like you were about to do a rather stupid thing. And I wanted it," he smiles and doesn't give her time to reply before he crashes his lips to hers again. This time, they both get lost in the feeling.

Passion is raging with a carefree energy in her body - in the narrow room the heat suddenly feels suffocating. Emma has no idea when their coats hit the ground as it falls from her hands, but all of a sudden she's hugging Killian, their bodies pressed together closer and closer. His hand is gripping her hip gently, then glides higher on her body until he reaches her cloth covered breast. She feels she's seconds away from joining their coats on the ground - her whole body is shaking and desire is scorching through her veins.

She doesn't know how she has the energy and will, but she breaks their kiss and pulls away. But Killian doesn't let go of her, his lips find the delicate spot on her neck and when his tongue tastes her, goosebumps erupt on her skin. She's all but clings to Killian in order to not fall to the ground, and his strong arms tighten around her and hold her firm against him.

"Are we really making out in the Music Hall's closet?" she moans with difficulty.

"We could be on the moon for all I care," he notes cheerfully and still doesn't pull away from her.

Every fiber of her flesh is tingling and begging for release. "There's no oxygen on the moon," she replies and there isn't as much jest in her tone as she would have liked.

He leans close to her ear and whispers "If I'm kissing you, I usually forget to breathe anyway."

Emma doesn't have time to mock his cheesiness because their lips are dancing again and she feels like their bodies are molding into each other and their existence is nothing but an endless euphoria.

She knows she's unable to pull away now, that they could make love to each other right here, right now for all she cares - it doesn't matter if they get caught, the only thing she wants is to feel him, to taste him, to—

But Killian pulls away.

For a few moments, they just stare at each other while gasping for air. Maybe none of them believes how much their passion took over them, how it possessed their bodies and erased their common sense.

"She's not right, is she?" she looks up at him suddenly and her question squeezes her heart.

His eyes soften when they fall on her and strokes her swollen lip with his thumb. "You know, Swan, that book has been discarded, put on the free takeaway shelf and you found it. Now it's yours. If you want."

˘. . . ° . . . ˘

Killian knocks on the door quietly and cautiously. He wants to surprise Emma and hopes she would let him in. Considering that how quickly she wanted to leave the Music Hall after the incident with Aurora this afternoon - for which he doesn't blame Emma - the tour of the building was postponed and he is very sorry for the lost time they couldn't spend together. In part, that is why he's now here: he doesn't think he can endure one more night without her.

"Open!" he hears from the other side of the door.

He feels the desire he tried to suppress this afternoon to come to life just from hearing her voice. It's insane how much she affects him.

"Hey," he cracks the door open just enough so he can poke his head in. "Can I come in?"

"Killian!" her tone is colored with happiness. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you," he states and steps into the room, closing the door behind him carefully.

"Why?"

"We're dating, aren't we?" he asks playfully.

"In my old room?"

She told him about the burst pipe in her apartment complex and how she has moved back to her old room for the time being and _"listen to the lovebirds being gross and overly cheerful all day."_ Killian thought he could stop by and distract her.

And besides, he really wanted to see her.

"The place doesn't matter. What matters is that we're together. After all, that's the point of dating. And I have a surprise for you," he declares as he takes off his messenger bag from his shoulder.

"What is it?"

"Do I detect a little curiosity on your expression?" he teases and sits down on the carpet, placing his bag in front of him.

"Maybe," she smiles.

"How was the rest of your day?"

"Are you seriously stalling now?"

"Aye, and until you answer, you won't know what's inside this bag," he pats the aforementioned object in his lap.

"It was good," she frowns and slips from her bed to settle in front of Killian on the carpet.

"In more details?"

"It was really good,"

"Swan!" he says her name warningly.

"Okay, fine," she gives in but crosses her arms in front of her chest defiantly. Killian glances at her with a smirk. "Mary Margaret offered me a temporary job at her new gallery and told me and David in detail how she wanted to furnish and decorate it. We start it tomorrow. It will be beautiful, I mean really. It will be just as mesmerizing and mysterious as her paintings. If we can do what Mary Margaret has envisioned, it will be amazing."

"When does she want to open?"

"After the charity ball. Did you know that she offered some of her paintings for the auction? She said it would be a masquerade ball. You didn't exactly mention this when we made the bet."

"I thought I still have time for that," he shrugs. In truth, he is now confident that he won't lose the bet. But if it will be the case...No, he doesn't want to finish that thought.

"Allegedly, it will be a pretty grandiose event," she tells him. "One or two of her paintings will function as decorations too. It's going to be a great advertising for the gallery. So we have two weeks to make Mary Margaret's dream come true."

"Do you think you would tolerate me popping in from time to time?" he peeks at her playfully.

"You want to help?" she asks in surprise.

Clearly, she doesn't assume that he would willingly muck about with all kinds of decorative elements and things, which is true, but that's not his goal anyway.

"Aye."

"Why?"

"Because then I get to be with you," he states simply.

A sweet smile creeps onto her lips and he can almost see the blush adorning her cheeks. "I don't think Mary Margaret would mind."

"Then it's settled," he nods, satisfied.

"Okay, now you can show me what you brought." Impatient, she clasps her hands together, resembling a child who is unable to wait for their present.

Killian suppresses a smile. "Patience is not one of your virtue, is it?" he can't help but laugh.

"No, so get used to it," she retorts with an identical smile.

He unzips his bag and takes out a few books. He bought them all at Belle's shop this afternoon and truth to be told, he needed some help with selecting them out. After retrieving the books, he pulls out a flash drive, a set of alcohol markers (in every color of the rainbow, not just black) from a smaller pocket.

Emma watches him with a frown.

"So here's everything," Killian starts. "Now we only need pants."

Emma still has no clue what he wants.

"We're going to make you a 'happy-jeans'," he announces triumphantly.

She lets out a bubbly laugh - Killian never heard her like this, so carefree and happy. Her laughter flows through his body and fills him soaring happiness.

Even though he expected some resistance from her, she doesn't protest at all at his idea. He insists that only those quotes can get on the jeans which he approves first. In turn, he has to concede that the colored markers will only be used to draw smileys and the black ones used for the texts.

"There's one I already found for you," he informs her when she lays out a still completely blank jeans on the floor. They sit cross-legged from another and Killian switches on his laptop to allow them to select lyric parts from the many songs he saved to the flash drive.

"If you like it, I'd love to have this on the jeans first," he continues and looks up at Emma a bit anxious, but she only smiles at him encouragingly so he quickly rambles on. _"There can be miracles, when you believe. Though hope is frail, it's hard to kill."_

"Okay," she nods with a smile and reaches for the markers.

Killian blows out a breath with relief - he was afraid of Emma's reaction.

"Will you dictate it?" she glances at him expectantly and that brilliant smile is still adorning her lips.

They laugh a lot while selection different quotes. Of course, Emma comes up with a couple of darker ones, but Killian vetos all of them. They spend hours reading through the lyrics and poetry Killian brought, sometimes out loud to entertain each other. Then when they eventually get tired, they sprawl on the floor side by side and continue to select through the songs.

Killian doesn't realize how quickly the time flew - it was dark outside when he arrived and it's still dark now. He simply doesn't glance at his watch because Emma takes up all of his attention. The way she laughs and goofs around, as she teases him again and again at his choice of music. He discovers that she has like a million faces, but he adores each of them equally.

"Done. My eyes feel like goo," she announces after she finishes writing a quote Killian chose. "Let's finish it tomorrow, okay?"

"So can I visit you tomorrow?" he asks with a grin.

"Of course," she replies, a secretive and playful smile is tugging at the corner of her lips. Their slow but sure relationship feels like they are teenagers again, but he enjoys every minute of it.

Killian is happy to see Emma like this. He always wants her to be this happy and cheerful. He believed he would do anything just to make her smile like this.

"Can I stay the night?" he asks suddenly. He really doesn't want to go home now, it's late, and if he stays, he can maybe comfort her when she has a nightmare. But on the other hand, he really doesn't want to push her, but sometimes he just can't help himself.

"I don't see why not," she grins.

"Wonderful," he smirks back at her.

Emma gets up from the floor reluctantly and steps to her bed. She pulls dark blue boy shorts and black tank top from under the plaid covering the blanket. "Turn around."

"Absolutely not," he shoots back.

"Killian!" she scowls at him.

"Just imagine that we are at the beach. I would see you in a bikini there."

"I don't go to beaches," she informs him brusquely.

Killian surrenders and turns away from her with a laugh. Of course, he can't help himself and a few moments later he takes a peek over his shoulder. Emma's just slipped out of her pants. Her back is to him, giving him a perfect view of her rounded arse and he can't stop his head from turning all the way to her.

Naturally, she chooses that exact same moment to test his chivalry and her eyes widen as he gets busted. "Killian!" she spins around, looking daggers at him.

Killian blinks up at her with an apologetic look. "I couldn't resist the temptation. And you have a magnificent ass."

Emma blushes and quickly pulls on her shorts. She turns away from him again and yanks off her shirt in a flash. He really, really wants to touch her back, to drag his fingers up her delicate skin.

A soft groan escapes his mouth at the thought and his name leaves her lips in a warning tone. But when she turns around in her black top to face him, she smiles. He shrugs his shoulders boyishly and tries very hard to look innocent.

She reaches behind her back to unclasp her bra and pulls it out from under her top. He eagerly drinks in the sight as the black fabric fits perfectly to her body. It doesn't escape his attention how her hard nipples straining against her top.

"I think it's better if I go to bed," she mutters slightly flustered and practically jumps under the blanket in an escape.

Killian collects the forgotten markers off the floor and places them neatly on her writing desk. He switches off the light and takes off his jeans and socks in the darkness. He opts out of pulling off his shirt too - it would be dangerous for him to be so close to Emma and feel her heated skin against his.

He climbs beside her on the bed with a shiver. She chose the side closer to the wall so he is left with the one closer to her door - he doesn't mind though, it's like he's protecting her, shielding her from the outside world. As if he is the only who knows she's here. As if she's his, and only his.

Emma turns her back to him and nestles close to him. Killian's body immediately reacts to her closeness. He doesn't move and tries to take a breath as slowly as possible. Maybe Emma will fall asleep and doesn't notice-

"I can't sleep like this," she whispers.

"Like what?" he asks back quietly

Emma suddenly turns around and strokes down his stomach until her palm lands on his erection. Killian tries to hold back a groan.

"Like that," she declares.

"Well, I can _hardly_ be blamed for that," he claims in a hoarse voice. "Your proximity has this effect on me usually."

"Then maybe we should remedy this problem," she murmurs cheerfully and sits up.

"Swan?" his eyebrow is raised in silent query.

Emma turns to him and his eyes already got used to the darkness enough for him to be able to make out the playful glim in her eyes.

"Don't worry, we won't have sex," she states and Killian doesn't know if he's happy for it or not. Because if they do have sex tonight then there is the risk that she won't want anything more from him come next day, just like all the women before. He tries very hard not to think of that and tells himself that Emma is different...but the thought is always swimming in his head cunningly.

"Yesterday you forgot to ask me," she continues as she pulls the blanket off their bodies, " what I think is a really important question: how loud I am in bed. I'll tell you: very. And I'm not so sure that I want my family to hear us."

"Then…"

"Be quiet, Killian!" she chides him, but her tone is light and playful. For the time being, Killian has no idea what Emma has in mind.

"But…"

"Shut up," she commands firmly and grabs the hem of his shirt. Killian sits up and helps her yank off the material from his body. She gently places her hand on his chest and pushes him back to the bed. His obedience earns him a satisfied hum and when her dainty fingers stroke down his chest, a longing moan flutters into the air.

Emma bends her head and plants a careful, open-mouthed kiss on his skin. It is sweet and agonizing at the same time a shiver runs through Killian, the desire coursing through his veins makes his heart rate spike.

Her lips draw a tender and feverish trail from his collarbone down to his belly button - every kiss gives him pleasure and agony simultaneously. His breathing is starting to become shallow. When her tongue finally grazes his skin, he shudders at the touch. She seemingly takes pleasure in tasting him which sends a wave of jolt through his body.

When she reaches his boxer briefs she pulls away slightly and without hesitation, she tears down the material. Killian watches as her eyes fill with hunger. Her fingers close around his erection - her skin is so hot and her touch is so soft and exploratory that he feels he's going to explode.

Then she suddenly bends over him and places a soft kiss on his head. His body tenses.

"Swan, you don't have to…" his whisper is strained.

She interrupts him. "But I want to. As I said before, though maybe you don't remember it clearly," she notes playfully. "I like oral sex."

"But it's not fair that you…"

"You gifted me on Saturday, now let me return the favor," she cuts him off. "Be quiet!"

"I want to touch you," he says in a yearning tone.

"You can't," she shakes her head. "We both know where that would lead. I don't want that now, not like this with my family being here a couple of walls away."

"They won't hear a thing," he stresses, though he is not exactly sure of that. But he wants her so much.

"Maybe, but I don't want to risk it," she gives him a smile. "Now...shut...up." Her every word is followed by a kiss on his stomach for emphasis.

Killian stays quiet but can't get his eyes off Emma. He watches as she scoots further down on his body until she reaches his erection again and places soft and short kisses on his member. A shiver runs through him and his eyes follow her shakily as she takes him in her mouth deep. Again and again.

What he feels is not anything he had ever experienced before. Swells of pleasure are flooding through him and he thinks he's going to perish any second. "Swan, I'm going to…" he groans in a faraway tone. "Emma…"

But she doesn't pull away at his weak words and instead, tightens her lips around him. And that is the moment he can't take it anymore. Sweet and intense relief drowns him in waves and he feels he's going to fall apart. His hands grip the blanket convulsively and clenches his eyes shut, trying extremely hard not to let out a moan but nevertheless, some kind of blissful sound still escapes his lips.

When his body finally relaxes, Emma strokes his cock with her tongue one last time before pulling away. Killian is unable to open his eyes.

"Breathe, Killian," she warns him softly while her fingers gently caress his chest.

He only then realizes that he indeed held his breath back. He exhales shakily and glances up at her with awe. She gives him a smile, happy and satisfied. He knows what she's feeling - the same thing he felt on Saturday evening.

He grabs her hand and pulls her to him. Their lips press heatedly and hungrily to each other and he tries very hard to tell her everything he otherwise can't with the kiss. He believes Emma understands him. She knows how genuinely he admires her, how happy he is in this moment. That no one has ever made him feel this way before her. How magical it was. He tries to tell her so many things that words would not be enough.

Panting, they separate. Emma pulls back his boxer briefs and shakes her head no when tries to reach for his shirt on the floor. She strokes through his chest one more time before settling down beside him, but instead of turning her back to him, she curls up against him with her face nestled in his neck. She pulls the blanket over them and places a soft kiss against his collarbone before wishing him good night.

Killian places his right hand on her waist underneath the cover and stretches his left under her head, engulfing her in his embrace. He whispers a good night in her ear and he knows it will be a while until he falls asleep. He watches Emma for a while as she lets out soft snoring noises he finds adorable and slowly he dozes next to her, the feeling of her in his arms painting his dreams all through the night.

* * *

 **What do you think? I'd like to hear your thoughts :)**


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